Gale's Window
by JavisTG
Summary: It's been 10 days since Katniss Everdeen kissed me. I was passed out cold lying on her kitchen table. The only thing that kept me tethered to reality was Katniss's hand holding mine, our fingers intertwined. Gale Hawthorne wakes up after his whipping to discover the world he once knew doesn't exist anymore. Canon-compliant. Gale's POV.
1. Winter

**CHAPTER 1. Winter**

It's been 10 days since Katniss Everdeen kissed me.

I was passed out cold lying on her kitchen table. The sweet medicine coursing through my veins made me feel like I was floating. The only thing that kept me tethered to reality was Katniss's hand holding mine, our fingers intertwined.

She'd never held me like that before; it was like she was keeping me in place, like an anchor, stopping me from slipping away into the dark waters of pain and confusion.

That's when it happened.

She had been gently running her fingers through my face. Suddenly, she brought her lips to my ear and whispered, "I'm sorry." Then she leaned in and she kissed me.

It didn't last very long. And, as she softly pressed her warm lips against mine, my mind raced to that one other time when our lips had touched.

XXXXX

She'd just come back from the arena and I'd desperately needed to show her how I felt about her.

I had spent the last few weeks watching her fight for her life on TV. During the first few days, she did everything I would have done if I had been in her place, but the game makers couldn't just leave her alone. She'd scored an 11 during her training sessions and they wanted everyone to see what she was capable of.

I could hardly breathe when I saw the Careers stationed under her tree. The baker's son's watchful eye on her made me very nervous. What game was he playing?

He was trying to survive, that much was obvious, but why was he using her to do it? He had proven to be strong and smart enough to join the career pack, why wasn't he playing like a career then?

After, as Katniss fought the effect of the tracker jacker poison, he helped her. He paid dearly for it. The career's sword slashed his thigh.

I watched, dumbstruck, as the baker's son hobbled to the stream's edge. Once again I wondered what his angle was. Was he really willing to exchange his life for Katniss's?

A few days later Katniss's young ally was killed and the strong, brave girl who had destroyed the career's supplies became despondent and, quite frankly, a bit reckless. I desperately wanted to reach out to her, to let her know, somehow, that she wasn't alone, that I thought she could still make it back. I've never felt so helpless in my life.

And then, everything changed.

First she received a gift from District 11. Then she was told she could have a new ally in the arena, someone she wouldn't have to kill in order to survive.

I could hardly contain my rage when I saw Katniss and the baker's son kiss for the first time. Having her stuck in a cave taking care of a dying boy who was only holding her back had been one thing, but watching her share her first kiss with someone who wasn't me was almost enough to throw me over the edge of madness.

Once again the Capitol was controlling our lives. It wasn't enough to starve and overwork us to within an inch of our lives, to send the district's children into an arena to fight for their survival, now they were intruding in a moment that should have naturally remained private. Why was the girl I loved being forced to kiss a complete stranger?

That night the Capitol took something precious from me. That night I lost the opportunity to be the first person to kiss the girl I loved.

Even though it hurt to watch I understood why she behaved the way she did inside the arena, after all, she was just trying to make it out of there in one piece. But I'd be lying if I didn't say that the way she acted once the Game was over really surprised me.

My blood boiled over when she ran into the baker´s son's arms and acted like she would happily stay wrapped in his embrace forever. The bitter taste of bile made its way into my mouth every time Caesar Flickerman tried to interrupt their inappropriate make-out session.

The Game was over, so why was the baker's son still groping my girl? Who did he think he was anyway? Why did he act like he owned her? And, why was she allowing this? She couldn't possibly be enjoying it, could she?

I kept telling myself that it had all been an act, just a plan to gain sponsors and stay alive. There was no way any of it was real. I didn't know why she was humoring those silly Capitol people who seemed so interested in this inane romance. They were even dumber than I thought if they were falling for this act.

I kept telling myself that it didn't really matter; she'd be back home soon enough. The important thing was that she'd made it out of there alive, and now that she was a victor she'd be able to do anything she wanted. Wasn't that what being a victor was all about after all? Once you survive the Games you are free to live your life in any way you want, right?

I couldn't wait to have her to myself. I counted every minute I had to wait until I could get her alone in the woods. Our woods. Once we could talk everything would be explained.

Getting to spend some time alone with her turned out to be more difficult than I'd anticipated. My work down in the mines and all of the celebrations she was expected to attend kept interfering with our private reunion.

A couple of weeks went by before we could meet at our usual spot. She got there before I did. Once she saw me, she started crying, clearly relieved to see that I still wanted to be with her; that I wasn't mad at her for what she'd done inside the arena. There were so many things I wanted to say to her, so much I wanted to ask, but, by the time she'd calmed down, I could tell she wasn't interested in talking about any of it. She just wanted to act as though nothing had happened; she wanted to forget.

I was happy to oblige, I wanted nothing more than that. I just wanted to go back to the way things were before that horrible day when her sister's name had been called in the town square. So I filled her in on all the news from town. I didn't mention the mines or the Games. I didn't ask what her plans for the future were and I certainly didn't discuss the baker's son.

By the time we were done hunting, I had started to feel like we had succeeded in keeping the rest of the world at bay. There we were, back in our woods, just a boy and the girl he loved. A boy and a girl who were free of the Games. I had already survived my last reaping and she'd never have to participate in a reaping ceremony again, the time was right, I was finally free to make my intentions known.

Under normal circumstances, I would have gone to her house and I would have given her flowers, then I would have taken her to the Meadow. I would have delivered a short speech. I would have told her how much I cared about her, how much she meant to me. I would have assured her that, even though I knew she wasn't interested in marriage or children, our lives would be better if we lived them together. Besides, who were we kidding? If she cared about me as much as I cared about her, she would probably change her mind about that anyway.

But these weren't normal circumstances, so I decided to take a different approach. I decided to skip the flowers, the Meadow, and the speech and just go for it.

I leaned in. Her whole body went stiff under my touch as my lips found hers. She didn't reject me, but I could tell that I had made her uncomfortable.

I berated myself afterward. What had I been thinking? It was the first time we saw each other since her return to District 12. She'd been expecting the comfort and familiarity of her best friend. She didn't need to have my romantic advances shoved down her throat! She already had the baker's son for that. Why had I been so blind?

The thing is, I hadn't been trying to pressure her. I'd just wanted her to know I was there for her and that I knew her romance with the baker's son wasn't real. That she didn't owe me any explanations; that the bond we shared went beyond that; that nothing had to change between us; that I was ready to pick up where we'd left off.

Where we'd left off.

Where had we left off?

I'd never told her how I felt about her. Not when I admired her determination and strength while she managed, almost single-handedly, to keep her family afloat. And definitely not once I realized how much she'd grown up; how she'd turned from a scrawny little girl into a young woman who could make your heart melt when she smiled, something that was made even more precious by the fact that it didn't happen very often.

I had always assumed she knew how I felt about her. How couldn't she? I thought that some of my actions and comments had made it pretty obvious. I had seen the way people from the Hob looked at us. How they just assumed we were together, how they knew we belonged to one another.

Then again, she was never one to overanalyze things. She was always better with actions than with words. She'd been constantly consumed with worry over Prim's wellbeing and, up until recently, I'd never seen her pay much attention to any of the boys or men who approached her. Since I never really said anything to her, why wouldn't she be surprised by my sudden advances?

So, I tried to give her space. It wasn't that hard, my job at the mines kept me busy during the week anyway. And on those precious Sundays when we would meet at our usual place I tried to act as though nothing had happened. We kept each other company. We talked about people in town. We hunted and we divided our game. We never mentioned the kiss. She never talked about her new life in Victor's Village, and I never mentioned the mines. Our new routine wasn't perfect, but it was good enough.

Then the Victory Tour came along and everything changed. Again.

She was only gone for a couple of weeks but, by the time she came back, she was already engaged to the baker's son.

Engaged!

A hot rage consumed me as I saw him drop on one knee and ask Katniss to marry him.

But, watching her was much harder.

I thought my head was going to explode when she pulled him into her arms and promised to keep him close and keep him safe for the rest of her life.

It's not real, I kept telling myself; it's just an act. But something in the way she wouldn't let go of his hand made me feel queasy. So I made up some stupid excuse to get out of the celebration at the mayor's mansion and I spent the entire Harvest Festival hiding in the woods.

It wasn't that bad. I hadn't had that much free time on the other side of the fence since I started working in the mines and I was able to catch a couple of rabbits and some squirrels.

Any sense of calm I'd recovered during those days quickly vanished when I stumbled upon the offering she'd left at our meeting place the following Sunday.

Her fiancée's gloves. Really?

By the time I made my way to the cabin where she was waiting for me, I was already fuming.

The second I walked through the door, she started talking about President Snow's visit to her house.I was shocked to discover that he'd threatened her family and mine.

Surprise gave way to joy when she asked me to run away into the woods with her. She was finally coming back to me! Finally acknowledging my feelings for her, our feelings for one another, our love.

That's what I thought at first. She quickly corrected my mistake, though. Apparently, she'd been too scared to sort out her feelings for me but, when it came to endangering her family by bringing the baker's son (who knew nothing about survival in the woods) along for the ride, she wasn't that afraid.

When she started talking about the unrest she had seen in the districts I snapped.I just couldn't believe my ears! It was like a dream come true! We were not alone. We weren't the only ones who were tired of the oppression. There were those who were willing to fight back!

The President's visit to District 12 could only mean one thing: these rebels were not weak and he was afraid of them.

But, for some reason I didn't understand, Katniss didn't seem interested in joining the fight. She just wanted to hide, and I just needed to leave.

In hindsight, I should have reigned in my temper a bit better. But I just couldn't stop myself. When she started talking about how scared she was, I realized that, for all my talk about love and friendship, I honestly didn't know what her new life was really like.

As I angrily made my way back to town, the same questions kept racing through my mind in one continuous loop: Who was this person I had been talking to? What had happened to the girl who was brave enough to feed her family while ignoring the dangers on both sides of the fence, the girl who volunteered to go into an arena just to keep her sister safe?

Well, there was one thing I knew for sure, she was no longer a girl. She was a victor.

Victor.

The word always leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, a reminder of the wedge that separates us. Is that what victors are like? Selfish, cowardly, detached, weak.

Apparently, she'd spent the last few months being nothing more than a puppet, smiling and dancing and kissing on cue.

All around her, the country's been about to explode. But she just wanted to keep pretending, acting like nothing's happening, like it's alright to starve to death and to risk your life working in the mines, in the fields, in the factories that benefit the Capitol and keep the districts enslaved.

It seems like our freedom hasn't been important to her, no, as long as those close to her are fine then the rest of the country can burn. I should be flattered. I'm on the short list of those she's trying to protect, after all. But, somehow, I'm still disappointed. She could do so much good if she wanted to.

I angrily cursed under my breath as I made my way back to town.

If I hadn't been so focused on my anger and my disappointment, I probably would have noticed the group of Peacekeepers assembled in the square or the sharp smell of disinfectant that wafted from Cray's old house. I might have seen the group of people from the Seam hurrying back home; talking in hushed voices, their eyes trained on the fallen snow along the road.

But I didn't notice any of these things. And it wasn't until I was face to face with our new Head Peacekeeper that I realized I had made a mistake, a terrible mistake.

XXXXX

My whole body was on fire.

I could hear distant voices, but I couldn't focus my attention on what they were saying. I didn't have enough strength left in me to care.

My body was burning.

The pain was so acute and overwhelming that I wished the fire would consume me once and for all.

The cold snow instantly relieved my burning flesh. I could feel the soft flakes melting into the open gashes on my back. I sighed in relief. Maybe I wouldn't burn, after all.

I felt a soft pinch in my arm and my body went numb. I was completely relaxed. I started drifting away. The morphling's soft embrace cradling me, carrying me to the clouds.

I'd been flying for a while, floating softly, like a kite, held down to earth by a delicate string when I heard her voice reaching out to me.

"I'm sorry," she said. And then she kissed me.

This kiss was completely different from the one I gave her. Her lips were relaxed and soft, the kiss tender and warm.

I don't know if it was the medicine running through my body or the tenderness of her touch but I was enveloped by warmth. It wasn't the blazing heat of passion I'd felt while making out with those girls from the Seam I had occupied my time with before I realized how much my Catnip had grown. This was a comforting kind of heat, the kind that burns softly and lasts longer.

Suddenly, I felt no more pain, no more envy and no more anger, no more sorrow. For a moment, I was completely at peace with the world. It was a delicious feeling.

After, I felt her forehead resting on my shoulder. I could hear her breathing as it slowed down to a steady rhythm. I could tell she was drifting off, surrendering to sleep.

The warm embrace of sleep pulled me under and I let myself go.

XXXXX

I don't remember much about my first days at the Everdeen's home. I remember pain so overwhelming I could hardly breathe at times. I remember feeling so weak and so broken that I wondered why they were even bothering with me. Didn't they have anything better to do with their time than try to keep me alive?

The only thing that made my situation somewhat bearable was the brief respite provided by the medicine Mrs. Everdeen regularly pumped into my system.

For the first couple of days, Katniss barely left my side. She sat next to me as strong cold winds howled outside, throwing fat snowflakes against the walls and windows, encasing the sturdy house in an icy shell, isolating us from the rest of the world.

She paid close attention to my every noise and my every move. Sometimes, before drifting away into my drug-induced slumber, my feverish mind recalled the soft tingle of her lips pressed against mine.

She never held my hand again after the first night.

As days went by I felt her becoming restless, her whole body aching to be outside, on the other side of the fence, preferably. I can't say I blamed her, though. If I'd had an ounce of energy to spare, I would've been running through the trees as well.

After a couple of days, the frozen coat that covered the house began to melt and I could hear the Victor's Village coming back to life. A steady trickle of visitors started coming through the door. My crew mate, Thom, came by to check up on my progress. A couple of pregnant women from the Seam came in looking for Mrs. Everdeen's help, and Even Haymitch made an appearance in the late afternoon, the stench of a three-day bender trailing behind him.

I sometimes wondered how my mother and siblings were faring back in our own modest little house. Did they have enough coal and wood to keep warm? Did they have any food left? I felt so useless, but the pain and the medicine made it impossible for me to move.

I slept on the kitchen table for several days. My injuries were still fresh, and they didn't want to risk moving me into the spare bedroom. Even though they tried to be quiet around me, I could still hear everything that happened around the house.

One morning, while Prim was at school and Mrs. Everdeen was out, Katniss's fiancé showed up, the usual loaf of freshly baked bread tucked under his arm.

After what sounded like some very awkward chitchat, Katniss asked him to join her in the study. They must have thought I was completely out of it, because they didn't bother closing the door behind them and, even though they were practically whispering, I could still make out what they were saying.

"Hey, can we talk?" she asked.

"Sure, Katniss. What's up?"

"I... I just wanted to say 'thank you.'"

"Oh... it's fine, I baked a lot during the snowstorm. Something to pass the time I guess. I still have a few more loaves at home, I'm taking them over to the community home later today, before they go stale."

"Oh... hmm... that's not what I meant," she added, sounding so nervous that my curiosity was instantly piqued. "I wanted to thank you for... for what you did the other day... for... for Gale."

Surprise ran through me like a bolt of lightning. What was she talking about? What he did for me? What was that exactly?

"Katniss... you don't need to thank me," he replied. His voice turned serious as he added, "Actually, I wish I'd reacted sooner. I should have stopped it before you got hurt. Besides... it's not like I had a choice."

My head started spinning. I couldn't stop it, so I just tried to control my breathing as I followed their conversation.

"C'mon, Peeta! You had a choice!" Katniss hissed in annoyance.

"Really? And, what choice was that exactly? Should I have allowed that beast to keep on going until he finished Gale off? 'Cause that's what would've happened if we hadn't stopped him," he countered.

We. In plural? What had he done?

I'd been trying to recall what had happened in the square. I remembered being tied to the whipping post, and Darius trying to stop his new boss. The image of the new Head hitting the young Peacekeeper in the face kept playing in my mind.

I had lost consciousness shortly after that.

The next memory I had was of me lying on the table while Katniss yelled incoherently and her mother and Prim tended to my wounds.

The fiancée's voice brought me back to the conversation in the study. "I'm just grateful that he didn't call my bluff," he said.

"But, that's exactly it Peeta, you challenged a head Peacekeeper! You dared him to hit you! What would've happened if he'd done it? How did you know he wouldn't?"

My mind raced as I tried to make sense of what I was hearing. The baker's son had challenged a Peacekeeper? I needed to understand what had happened in that square.

"Well, I didn't," he snapped back at her, "but I couldn't just stand back and watch. What Thread was doing was wrong. You know it, and I know it. Hell! Everyone who was there knows it! That's why Purnia eventually intervened. Honestly, Katniss, I don't regret doing it. I'd probably do it again."

His words hit me like a direct punch to the stomach. He had been willing to put my safety before his.

Something in his voice made me believe him when he said he'd do it again.

I had seen Peeta Mellark fight more than once. I remembered some of his wrestling matches at school and, like everyone else, I had seen what he'd done during his Game. I had never imagined he'd stand up for me, though. I'd given him no cause for that.

Catnip seemed quite flustered by his words. She clearly didn't want to argue anymore when she added, "well... I… I just... I wish... We need to be careful, that's all I'm saying."

I heard him sigh heavily, then, with a tired tone, he answered, "that, I won't argue with."

"Good." Katniss's relief was palpable. "Ready to take a walk into town?" she asked.

"Sure. Let's go."

After they left, the house was engulfed in silence. As I processed all the information I'd just received, I realized something. One way or another, the baker's son had risked his life to protect me.

I didn't really know what had driven him to do something so reckless. As far as I could tell, he had been trying to protect Katniss. But, even if my safety hadn't been his primary concern, I'd benefited from his actions. To hear Katniss tell it, I pretty much owed him my life!

This was a debt I would never be able to repay. How could I, in good conscience, keep on treating him like an enemy?

I'd hated him since the first time I'd seen him on TV, holding Catnip's hand during the tribute parade. After, when he publicly declared his feelings for her, I instantly accused him of being manipulative and false. But, after everything that had happened in that arena, even I had to admit that his love for her seemed genuine. He'd definitely risked his life more than once just to keep her safe. He had even been willing to let her shoot him once the rule change was canceled.

And, if what Catnip told me in the cabin was true, he hadn't been in control of anything either.

As I drifted away into a dreamless sleep, one thought occupied my mind. The baker's son had saved my life.

Katniss's fiancé had saved my life.

Peeta Mellark had saved my life.

XXXXX

I've spent the last 10 days staying at the Everdeen's home in the Victor's Village. Once the open cuts on my back began to heal I was moved from the kitchen into the study.

The study doesn't have a proper bed, but the long, backless couch that Mrs. Everdeen calls "chaise longue" is good enough for me. Besides, their spare room is on the top floor and I didn't have enough energy to climb the stairs during the first days of my stay.

This room is a bit sterile. There's a large, dignified desk with a couple of straight back chairs that look very formal and not very inviting, and a round corner table, with a small reading lamp, stands beside the couch.

The large windows on the side of the sofa face the front of the house. They're covered with two layers of curtains.

The first layer is made of some sort of gauzy material, it's so thin that it's almost transparent; apparently its function is to provide privacy from outside onlookers.

The fabric on the second layer is soft and thick; when the curtain is drawn, almost no light comes through, it makes the room incredibly dark and stuffy, reminding me of the huge elevator that lowers me into the mines every morning.

I had a small panic attack the first night I slept here. I had trouble breathing and I kept thinking the walls were going to collapse in on me. As soon as I got up that morning I opened the thick curtains.

I haven't touched them since.

I've spent most of my time here inside this room. I haven't had enough energy to do much and Mrs. Everdeen and Prim needed to make sure that my wounds healed properly. They didn't want to risk an infection by allowing my injuries to open up from unnecessary movements.

Between the inactivity and the medication, the memories of my days here are foggy. Whenever I'm awake, I try to make sense of everything I've learned in the past few days. My mind keeps going back to the conversation I had with Katniss in the cabin; the realization that things are changing around us.

A revolution may be underway in some of the other districts but Twelve is small and poor. People here are hungry and afraid and, if the new Peacekeepers are any indication, the Capitol isn't ignoring us anymore.

But politics and revolutions haven't been the only topics on my mind. Being here has also allowed me to see a different side of Katniss's life. A side I'd never seen before. A side I didn't expect.

I've noticed that the bond she shares with her fellow victors is stronger than I'd imagined. It's not difficult to understand why they'd share such a strong connection. They're the only ones who know what it's like to make it out of an arena alive, after all. I guess I just hadn't given it much thought before now.

Back in the cabin, I accused her of being selfish and cowardly for wanting to run and hide. It drove me mad that she was willing to risk her life, our lives, by trying to bring Haymitch and Peeta into the woods with us. But, after the way they all stood up for me during Thread's punishment, I realized that this is how they operate. They protect each other.

After their display on the square, I have to give them credit for being brave and selfless. It's been humbling to accept that I'll never be able to pay them back for what they did for me that day.

According to Mrs. Everdeen, the scaring process has begun and I'm no longer at risk of an infection, so I'll be free to go back to my family tomorrow morning. I'll still have to come by a couple of times a week to have my back checked, but I can start working again.

I'm a bit anxious about going back home. With everything that's happened lately: the heightened security inside our district, the arrival of spoiled food and supplies, I really don't know where any of us stand.

Fortunately for my family, Catnip convinced Haymitch to hire my mother. I know that has meant that my siblings haven't been as hungry as the rest of the people from the Seam. But I also know that after my run in with Thread, people tried avoiding my mother and they're probably weary of my family's connections to the district's victors. I wonder how they'll treat me once I get back.

It's sometime past midnight. Everyone's asleep. The whole house is quiet. I'm lying on the couch, warmly cocooned in soft blankets. Soft moonlight filters through the drapes. A light flurry has begun to fall. The soft snowflakes cast playful shadows against the wall. I'm completely relaxed. I can feel sleep taking over and I happily give into it.

Screams.

Blood-curdling screams pierce the air. I'm startled awake.

Where are those horrible noises coming from? It only takes a few seconds to figure it out. Katniss's room.

I'm fully awake now. I stay still and listen. A minute goes by. She hasn't stopped yelling.

It's not the first time this has happened.

Before my whipping, I never knew Katniss had nightmares. I guess this is something else I've learned about her since I started staying here. She hasn't really told me what she dreams about but, judging by her screams, it must be something awful. Frankly, I think she's a little embarrassed by the whole thing, because she's never mentioned the dreams themselves. She must know that I know about them, though. It's impossible not to when she wakes up screaming like that in the middle of the night.

The truth is that I've never known what to do on these occasions. The first time it happened I considered going to her but, before I could make up my mind, I heard Prim making her way into her sister's room.

I was relieved. I don't know if I would have been able to calm her down. Prim, on the other hand, seemed to know exactly what to do. After a couple of minutes, the yelling had stopped, but I could still hear Katniss's sobs echoing through the hallway. I felt so helpless my heart ached.

Tonight is no different. Except that, for once, I can, at least, venture a guess as to what, or rather who, she's dreaming about. The anguish in her voice as she screams for Peeta to run sends a chill down my spine.

I hear Prim's rushed footsteps as she runs along the upstairs corridor. A couple of minutes later the familiar sobs replace the screams. I breathe.

One more scream shatters the silence. My heartbeat speeds up again as Katniss voices her refusal. "NO!" she yells.

It's only one word but it fills me with pain and sorrow. I listen intently as Katniss runs noisily down the stairs. I'm painfully aware of the fact that she doesn't sound like a hunter anymore. Right now, she's just prey.

I stand up, hastily throwing the covers and blankets to the floor, but I make no attempt to reach for the door. I don't want to scare her away.

I listen closely to her movements. She's right outside my door. I can hear her fumbling around in the foyer and, a moment later, I hear the front door open and slam shut.

I rush over to the window. Through the delicate material of the drapes, I see Katniss running away from her house and going towards Peeta's.

I almost don't believe my eyes when I see him running towards her. Did he hear her scream all the way to his house? He must have, why else would he leave his home in the dead of night?

She's still running and shows no signs of slowing down. They're halfway between their two houses now. He stops and opens his arms to her. She runs right into them with such force that he almost loses his balance. They sway dangerously, teetering on the brink of collapse until she pulls him close to keep him from falling onto the snow.

I silently watch as they stand there, in the middle of the deserted street, holding onto each other. Neither one seems willing to let go. I'm suddenly aware of the way my heart is racing inside my chest. I take a deep breath trying to get it to calm down, but I keep my eyes trained on the scene unfolding in front of me.

After a few minutes, Peeta lets go of Katniss and takes a small step back. I see him fumble with his coat's zipper. Once he manages to unzip it, he holds the flaps open in his hands. Katniss doesn't waste any time as she closes the distance between them; diving into Peeta's coat and wrapping her arms around him under the garment's fabric. His arms encase her, keeping his jacket wrapped around her like a blanket over her small frame.

They're both huddled inside his coat, her forehead rests against the crook of his neck and I can see their breaths coming out in small puffs against the cold air.

Peeta rubs slow, soothing circles on her back as they move in a gentle rocking motion. Two bodies delicately dancing with the snowflakes.

My heartbeat has slowed down to a more reasonable pace. My eyes are still focused on them and I realize I'm watching them in the same way I'd consider prey. I carefully study their every movement and, even though I can't hear them from here, I try to read their reactions. I need to understand what's happening here.

Their faces are just inches apart. He pulls his head back to look at her. She pulls away from him slightly, just enough to see his face.

He tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear, and I'm suddenly surprised at how natural the gesture looks. I don't remember ever touching her like that. I've seen him do it tons of times, but always in front of the cameras, for show. I never imagined she'd allow him to do something like that in private. She doesn't seem to mind, though.

It hasn't stopped snowing.

Peeta shakes his head. The faint dusting of snow that had been gathering on his hair lands on Katniss's face, and she wrinkles her nose as the cold feathers touch her cheeks. There's a small smile on her lips and, judging by the way her shoulders are shaking, I think she's giggling.

Katniss giggling.

Not something I see every day anymore.

The salty wetness on my lips pulls me out of my reverie. I'm crying!

I can't remember the last time I cried. When I'm upset, I normally tense up. My heart races inside my chest, and my whole body is consumed by fire. My hands become tightly shut fists, and the instinct to spring into action overwhelms me. But this is different. I feel like I can't move.

There's no strength left in me.

I can hardly breathe. I feel defeated, helpless. There's nothing I can do to change what's happening in front of me and. Honestly, I don't think it would be right to even try.

Time ticks by.

They talk. Their breaths turning into white clouds of warmth against the winter chill.

I watch.

Suddenly, Peeta lets go of her and takes a small step back. She's still holding onto him, partially protected by his coat.

He tugs at the scarf around his neck. I watch closely as he untangles it. I don't think I've ever seen a scarf like this one before. It looks like it's… orange? Yes, orange, a very pale shade, but orange nonetheless.

The color isn't the only thing that catches my eye. Scarfs are usually made out of rough, thick yarn, but this one looks too thin. The fabric seems to be soft and delicate and, as he holds it, fully stretched out in front of him, I can see that it's long and wide. I wonder what something like that costs, and if there's any real justification for it's worth. I won't deny it's nice to look at, but I'm sure that my shabby old scarf protects my neck just as well.

Peeta wraps his scarf around Katniss's neck. She stands very still as his hands move in small circles around her head. Once he's finished, she pulls on the edges of the scarf, tightening it around her neck, and immediately ducks her nose inside of the soft length of fabric.

They stand like that, looking at each other for what feels like an eternity but can't be longer than a few seconds. It's a cold night and, now that Katniss is no longer protected by Peeta's coat, you can see that she's started to tremble.

He says something. She nods.

Katniss turns on her heels, but she doesn't walk away. He reaches out to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and leads her back to her house.

The door opens and, as she steps into the house, I finally hear their voices.

"Good night, Peeta," she whispers.

"Sleep well, Katniss."

Panic has been replaced by calm.

I try to follow Katniss's motions once she closes the door. It's impossible. The silent hunter is back.

I know she's back upstairs when her bedroom door creaks.

I lie back down on the couch, resting my head against its arm. The covers that once brought me comfort now feel stifling. I close my eyes and try to piece this puzzle together. But I can't really concentrate with the sound of my heart pounding heavily inside my chest.

I try to conjure up pleasant thoughts. Try to remember Katniss's kiss, its softness, its warmth, the peace that enveloped me immediately after.

Two words interrupt my thoughts. I'm sorry. I'm. Sorry.

My eyes snap open. That's what she said right before kissing me "I'm sorry."

I try to focus on that night. I was splayed on her kitchen table, my back a bloody mess, more dead than alive. I've never been more broken or vulnerable in my life.

Did she kiss me because she felt sorry for me? She didn't say, "I love you" or "please don't leave me" or "I need you." She said, "I'm sorry."

What was she apologizing for? For what had happened that day? The fight we'd had, my whipping? Or was she apologizing for something else, something deeper, like not coming home from the Games to me or not reciprocating my feelings? When I told her that I loved her that day, she only answered, "I know."

She's never said that she loves me back. Is that what she's sorry about?

The truth is that things haven't been the same between us since she came back from the arena, and we're both to blame for that.

I know I shouldn't have pressured her when she came back from the Games. When I kissed her the way I did, I showed her what I wanted. I never asked what she thought or how she felt about it.

Honestly, I never even entertained the possibility that she might not be interested in me. I always thought it was just a matter of time. I was older and more experienced, and she'd always followed my lead. She always came to me for advice.

I never thought she'd ever run to anyone else for comfort. Not even Prim. She was the one comforting and protecting Prim, and I was the one protecting her, or so I thought.

But how did I protect her, really? Where was I while she was climbing up trees and cutting down tracker jacker nests? And, when she was scared and half frozen while her enemy screamed into the night. Where was I then?

I was here, stuck underground, watching her on TV, badmouthing the Capitol but following most of their rules. Feeling proud, strong and defiant for breaking the law in order to feed my family, while conveniently ignoring the fact that my dealings with corrupt Peacekeepers were what really kept me safe. I was never free, and I was never powerful. They had me on a leash. Cray's leash was just a bit longer than Thread's.

My mind keeps spinning but my body can no longer keep up. I give up trying to stay awake, there's no way I'll be able to figure out all of my problems in just one night and I need to rest. Tomorrow I'll be back home and I'll probably be going back to the mines the next day. I'll have enough time to think while I'm stuck in the dark pit.

As sleep takes over I hear the soft whisper of the wind and I let the images of dancing snowflakes carry me into oblivion.

I wake up to the sound of Mrs. Everdeen moving around in the kitchen, she's talking to Prim.

I leave my room to go into the downstairs bathroom, which has been exclusively mine during my stay. After washing up, and changing into the clean outfit that my mom delivered yesterday, I go into the kitchen. I find Mrs. Everdeen and Prim sitting at the table, in their usual seats.

"Morning Gale," Prim greets, "did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, very well," I lie. Prim doesn't need to know about my problems.

Just as I settle into my usual seat, I see Katniss coming in through the door. She looks a bit pale, but the circles under her eyes are not as bad as other mornings. She hasn't gotten out of her sleep clothes yet, and her braided hair is a bit disheveled. She's extended Peeta's scarf and she's using it as a shawl, keeping it tightly wrapped around her upper body.

I briefly wonder if she kept it on her as she slept.

Prim looks at her sister in surprise. "Wow! That's pretty," she says, as her hand reaches out to touch the orange fabric. "Ooh, it's very soft. Is it warm?"

"Yeah, it is." There's a soft blush on Katniss's cheeks and, is that the tiniest hint of a smile on her lips?

I'm not sure Prim notices it as she keeps inquiring about the garment. Her blue eyes sparkle as she asks, "Cinna made it, right? I love the color! Will you let me borrow it sometime?"

"Uh, sure… one of these days Little Duck," Katniss mumbles.

Satisfied with her sister's answer, Prim starts talking about a school project she's working on.

Apparently, she has to draw a diagram of a mine's compartment and Peeta is going to help her with it. I'm curious as to how much can Peeta Mellark possibly know about mines and their deep underground compartments. But I bite my tongue. This is not my family, and no one is asking for my help.

After breakfast is over Prim heads out to school. Right before leaving, she kisses my forehead and tells me she's very pleased with the progress I've made. She sounds so grown up, so much like a true professional, that I can't help but smile at her.

Katniss and I finish our breakfast in silence while her mother goes back into her bedroom to get ready for the day.

"So, you're going back to The Seam," she says as she stands up from her chair. The orange shawl has come loose, and it hangs limply from her shoulders.

"Yep, I've been released by my doctors," I say trying to make it sound like a joke, but I really don't have enough energy to pull it off. There's a hint of cinnamon in the air and, I don't know why, but it's making me nauseous.

"Good. I'm glad you're alright," she adds in a quiet voice. "I guess I'll see you back here in a couple of days when you come back for your treatment."

"Yeah, sure."

"Good," she says again. "I'm gonna go get dressed, say hi to your family for me?" she asks.

"I will, see you later then."

"Bye."

She turns to leave, and I notice the movement of her hands as she tightens the shawl around her body once more.

She walks out of the room. She doesn't look back.

Mrs. Everdeen takes another look at my injuries and applies a fresh bandage on top of my scar tissue. She gives me some instructions on how to take care of my back and tells me to come back in a couple of days.

After I've thanked her, and collected the few belongings my mother brought over, I head out onto the street. It's the first time I've been outside in days.

It's not snowing anymore, but white freckles still litter the ground. I take a deep breath. The cold winter air numbs the dull ache that settled on my chest a few hours ago.

As I walk towards the gates that surround the Victor's Village, I remember how the soft, cold snow coats healed my wounded back.

I wonder if the chilly breeze will heal my wounded soul.

XXXXX

**AN**

I want to thank the lovely AlwaysEverlark for the beautiful banner she made for this story.

I love kudos and comments as much as I love Peeta's shy smile. You always make my day when you share them with me. Thanks!

You can also find me on tumblr. I'm javistg over there, come and say hi!

The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.


	2. Summer

**CHAPTER 2. Summer.**

Three months ago I was standing, along with most of the population of District 12, in the town square. Three large screens had been set up in front of the justice building. Once again, we were being forced to watch, helplessly, as our loved ones were paraded in front of the Capitol's elite.

This time was different, though. For the first time in Panem's history, the tributes on our screens weren't small, terrified children. Some of them were strong, determined, vicious looking adults.

The crowd stood still as the screens reflected chariot after chariot of well-known faces. There were the typical Career types, looking well-fed, strong and cold-blooded, clearly ready to go back into battle. There were others, who looked painfully damaged or weak, and some that were simply shocked. Going back to an arena had never been part of their plan.

As the last chariot came into view, the crowd held a collective breath. The tributes from District 12 were, once again, making a grand entrance. Just like the previous year, their costumes represented the district's trade but, where last year we had seen wild, untamed flames, this year we saw the warm, and steady glow of embers. Cinna had decided to show the world the kind of heat that refuses to die.

My heart started beating furiously as Katniss and Peeta went around the City Circle, their hands were tightly intertwined, their heads held high.

The fierce determination in Peeta's eyes burnt a hole through my chest. The shy boy who had once held my girl's hand was long gone; he'd been replaced by a strong, determined man who was ready to go into battle.

I knew, without a doubt, that if I ever saw Katniss again, it would be because of him. He hadn't volunteered to go into that arena expecting to survive. He just wanted to keep her safe. I had to admit that the hatred I'd once felt towards the baker's son had gradually turned into respect over the course of the last few months.

XXXXX

I remember the impotence I felt as President Snow read the card for the Quarter Quell. As soon as the announcement was over I rushed over to Catnip's house. I couldn't believe she was being sent back into an arena. Was this what she had been so afraid of? Was this how the president had chosen to punish her? To punish them?

A cold chill ran down my spine as I thought about the three victors on the main square, standing between Thread's whip and my bloody back. That act of defiance was probably one of the reasons why President Snow wanted them gone.

The familiar heat of anger enveloped my chest as I remembered how I'd called her a coward and criticized her for not wanting to fight. Well, she'd fought. She'd fought against the local authorities to save my life and, how was she being paid for it? With a second trip into an arena.

Suddenly, I realized the Quarter Quell was still months away. We could still do something. We could still run. By the time I found her, she was drunk and defeated. I knew the electric fence had been turned on, but I just wanted to grab her and run away.

She said running was no longer an option. She had given up. The notion broke my heart, but I couldn't really blame her. The last months had been a harsh and constant reminder of the Capitol's hold on our lives. Stricter security, which had resulted in whippings and imprisonment for some of the people we dealt with every day; a steady flow of electricity on the district's electrified fence; spoiled food on parcel day; longer working hours in the mines, and hunger. Endless hunger.

People were starving, and the Capitol still had the upper hand. President Snow's message had been very clear, "Even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol."

A couple of days later there was a knock on my door. I could barely hide my surprise when I saw Peeta Mellark on the other side of it. He was a bit nervous. We had never been alone before, but that didn't stop him. He wanted to train for the Quarter Quell, "like Careers," he said.

"You have survival skills," he added, "I know you're great with snares. Anything you can teach us will surely give us an advantage in the arena. Will you help us?"

How could I refuse?

The next Sunday I showed up at Victor's Village to help them train. Katniss's scowl as I approached the three victors the first day was quite comical. She was jittery and anxious, never quite knowing where to rest her eyes; evidently uncomfortable mixing these two different sides of her life. But, once Peeta explained the situation to her, she relaxed.

"We need all the help we can get," he patiently told her, "and it's not like you can go hunting on Sundays anymore."

In all truth, Katniss already knew most of the things I taught them, and Haymitch was too weak from withdrawal symptoms to pay any attention to my explanations. Peeta, ever the diligent student, tried his hardest to learn a few basic snares. But, hard as he tried, he lacked all the necessary instincts for setting the simple contraptions. He either tightened the wires excessively, or he balanced the traps incorrectly. He simply couldn't manage to get the most elementary of snares to hold its position.

I found myself holding back laughter each time one of his snares collapsed between his fingers. He wasn't deterred by failure, though. He would just huff, puff, and curse under his breath, and start all over again. It was the first time I'd seen him struggle with anything. I wondered what the throngs of adoring fans from the Capitol would think if they could hear the words emanating from their dazzling victor's mouth.

As weeks went by, their results improved. Peeta managed to master some basic traps, and Haymitch became less sluggish and more focused. He was still pretty surly, though. Katniss would often scowl at him and tell him that his attitude wasn't appreciated, but I think that only served to spur him on.

One day, as I was waiting around for them to finish a particular set of snares I'd just explained, I noticed how different the interaction between Peeta and Katniss seemed. After spending those days at the Everdeen home, I had grown used to the way they talked to each other. They would usually speak in hushed voices, standing close to each other, placing their hands on each other's arms or shoulders, drawing the other one close. It had always seemed like they were sharing some secret no one else was supposed to know about. And, from time to time, they'd even smile a little.

But, things were different now; there were no more private discussions, no whispers, no touching and, definitely, no smiling. Their interactions had become more distant since the Quarter Quell had been announced. I can't say it bothered me, though. If anything, it made my time with them easier to bear. They were getting ready to fight, and there was no room for distractions or romance, pretended or otherwise.

Even though they never shared any of their plans or strategies with me, I wasn't surprised when Peeta volunteered to replace Haymitch inside the arena. The devastated look on Catnip's face when he stepped forward nearly broke me in half.

I had to fight the urge to smack the smirk right out of Thread's lips as he shoved Katniss and Peeta into the transport that would take them to the train station. Right before they disappeared behind the doors of the justice building he turned towards me. His eyes were full of contempt, but I held my ground and stood tall. My hands were tight fists and I shot him a determined glare.

"This isn't over," I thought, "you won't be in charge forever."

I had planned to talk to Catnip after the reaping but, as I saw the train leaving the station, I wondered if maybe this had been for the best. Something deep inside told me that I didn't really want to hear what she'd been planning to say to me. I just kept reminding myself, "she came back once. She may come back again.

XXXXX

There they were. Standing in front of President Snow, listening to his speech. Their bodies glowed like a hot coal and their stares were unforgiving. They were still holding onto each other, clearly a united front. They were showing the world they were prepared to fight. I knew they'd been ready for months.

Looking at them I allowed myself to feel hopeful. All the training and strategizing they'd done over the last weeks might pay off after all.

A week later we were all back on the square. The new Peacekeepers made sure that no one stayed home, they wanted us where they could see us.

There was a nervous energy in the crowd. People in the district were feeling anxious after the announcement of the training scores the night before. Having two tributes from the same district with the highest score was unheard of. Caesar Flickerman said he couldn't remember a time when something like that had happened.

"Not even among Careers!" he'd squealed enthusiastically

Apparently, the fact that these lucky tributes were the star-crossed lovers made him giddy with anticipation. It made me nauseous with dread.

We all stared silently at the screens as Caesar interviewed this year's tributes. The audience in the Capitol cheered and gasped as their favorite victors stepped onto the stage. The Careers behaved the same as they always had, acting like well-oiled killing machines, but some of the other tributes were full of surprises.

Beetee Latier shocked everyone by suggesting that the rules for the Quarter Quell could be changed or amended. Finnick Odair's poem for a secret lover confused me, and Johanna Mason's rant against the Capitol brought a small smile to my lips. That woman was fierce! The thought of her sharing an arena with Katniss worried me.

When Katniss stepped onto the stage, dressed as a Capitol bride, I felt sick. The familiar taste of bile seeped into my mouth as she explained that President Snow had requested the outfit. I was so enraged that I blocked out most of her conversation with Caesar, but the sight of her twirling and catching fire on screen immediately brought my full attention back to the broadcast.

After, as she stood onstage with arms outstretched and a resolute look in her eyes, my heart leaped inside my chest. She was beautiful and she was about to take flight. I chanced a glance around the square. I could see the mix of excitement and fear on everyone's faces.

The Peacekeepers who were watching the show stood a bit straighter than they had before. Their message was clear. We might have been distracted by the show, but they weren't. They were watching us.

My whole body went numb as Peeta described District Twelve's toasting ceremony. When he said, "we're more married than any piece of paper or big party could make us" a burning ache exploded inside my chest.

Where is he going with this? I asked myself as I saw him fidget and stutter nervously in front of Caesar. I was still trying to control the dry heat that was spreading through my body when he blurted out, "Maybe I'd think that, too, Caesar, if it weren't for the baby."

The world stood still.

My mouth went dry and I realized I'd forgotten how to breathe. What was he talking about? There was no way this was true. It was all a lie. It had to be! The secret toasting… the baby. I knew it was a lie, but the rest of the world didn't. They actually believed him. And who could blame them, when he had those blue eyes of his, loaded with grief and regret, trained directly on the camera?

After a few seconds of absolute silence, the crowd on the square began to stir. Soft whispers jumped from one pair of lips to the next. I wanted to shush them all, to yell at them and scorn them for being so gullible.

The noise coming through the speakers brought my attention back to the broadcast. The audience in the Capitol was enraged; the announcement had them all in a frenzy. We could hear their incensed screams along with Caesar's futile attempts to pacify them.

The time allotted for the interview ran out. Peeta turned away from the camera. His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he made his way towards the back of the stage were all the other victors were assembled. Tears ran freely down his cheeks by the time he reached his bride. Katniss held his gaze for a moment and extended her hand out to him.

When I saw their intertwined fingers, I understood what he'd done. For reasons beyond my understanding, the people from the Capitol cared about the star-crossed lovers. They had anxiously followed their romance and they were looking forward to years of entertainment from the pair. First, they would have witnessed their wedding, and then they would have followed their children, who would have probably been reaped at some point as well. He was just giving them a new chapter of their fairytale romance, adding some drama into the mix.

The other victors had been known in the Capitol for years. Sponsors already knew whom they were going to back. The only thing that set the District Twelve victors apart from the rest was the fact that they were a couple. People needed to be reminded of that fact, even if it was painful for me to hear.

The screen didn't hold Katniss's sad expression for long. As the camera moved away from her, she dropped Peeta's gaze and turned around to face her fellow tributes.

Nervous energy coursed through my veins when I saw Katniss reach out her hand to hold Chaff's stump. One by one the other victors followed her example. It was like an unstoppable avalanche of victors reaching out to their neighbors. Within seconds they were all holding hands, even the Careers reluctantly joined in the gesture.

There they stood, for the entire world to see, 24 victors linked together, 12 districts united.

I thought my heart would burst with excitement, but once the screens went black, the excitement was replaced with dread. We had just witnessed an act of treason; there was no way President Snow would forgive this.

I hardly slept a wink that night. I couldn't switch my mind off. I kept thinking about all the horrors that awaited Katniss inside that arena. I'd never seen a Quarter Quell before but I'd heard they were particularly horrifying and, I was pretty sure the game makers wouldn't hold back with an arena full of victors.

I anxiously tossed and turned as I waited for morning to break.

XXXXX

The arena turned out to be every bit as terrifying as I had imagined. Clearly, the game makers had considered many different angles; including the fact that some of the tributes had known each other for a long time and might have qualms about killing one another, so the arena did it for them.

I watched hour after hour, counting all the horrors that the different wedges held, hoping Katniss and her group of allies realized they were being held inside a giant clock.

Katniss's alliance with Finnick unsettled me. He was one of the most artificial and shallow products the Capitol had to offer. How could she possibly trust him? At some point, they were going to have to turn on each other. How was she going to get rid of him when the time came?

My whole body stiffened when Peeta hit the force field. I held my breath as Finnick moved over him.

I glanced around the square and found the baker and his two sons standing a couple of rows ahead of me. Confusion and concern were written all over their faces as they watched Finnick covering Peeta's mouth with his own and pressing his chest rhythmically.

Every pair of eyes in that square was glued to the images playing on the screens. One screen showed Katniss's perplexed expression as she watched Finnick working on Peeta. The other two showed different angles of Finnick's efforts.

No one moved a muscle. The only sounds in the square were Katniss's sobs coming through the speakers.

Even though I could hardly breathe my mind was racing. What was Finnick doing? Why had Katniss lowered her arrow? Was she surrendering?

The sound of Peeta's cough froze my racing mind.

Every single person on that square sighed in relief. I watched in amazement as Katniss pulled Peeta into her arms.

The square erupted in applause. The baker hugged his two sons, joyful tears streaming down their cheeks. Relief washed over me and I allowed myself a small smile. Peeta was alive, Katniss wasn't alone, Finnick had helped them.

Finnick had helped them.

Why? They were inside an arena. Only one of them could survive. Tributes normally attacked or ignored each other; no one had ever brought someone else back to life. It went against every principle the Games stood for. I was still trying to understand Finnick's motivation when I turned my attention back to my district's tributes.

Katniss was holding on to Peeta. She was crying uncontrollably. Peeta's arms were tightly wrapped around her and he kept rubbing soothing circles on her back.

The gesture brought me back to the night when I saw them together under the snow in Victor's Village. It seemed that, once more, he was the only person in the world who could comfort her.

The desperation in her voice as she tried to explain that his heart had stopped worried me. She'd looked so broken during those long seconds when she thought he'd died. I asked myself what would have become of her if he had. The answer chilled me to the bone, mostly because I knew that he wasn't planning on surviving this adventure.

She was clinging on to Peeta, hiccuping and sighing, unable to catch her breath, when I noticed Finnick's confused expression. He was obviously surprised by my friend's outburst. The whole thing seemed to make him uncomfortable. I can't say I blamed him, though. All that sobbing and whimpering were starting to get on my nerves. Besides, I figured that someone like him would be hard pressed to know what real affection was.

Real.

Yes, the bond between Katniss and Peeta was undeniably real. Everything about this moment attested to that. And, if what I had seen around here over the course of the last few months was any indication, it had been real for some time.

Days went by. Katniss and most of her allies managed to survive the new horrors that each hour brought.

The old District Four victor's sacrifice saddened me. People in District Twelve didn't usually reach old age, not even among the town's merchant class. The constant malnutrition and poor living conditions in the district didn't exactly promote longevity, and those who did survive were usually riddled with illness and misery. But Mags had seemed different, full of life somehow.

Maybe having braved the odds at such a young age had made her appreciate life; maybe having her victor's earnings all those years had made life easier for her. Still, I couldn't bring myself to resent her after she had so clearly decided to end her life so that Peeta could have his. Once again I found the actions of a District Four tribute puzzling. What game were these people playing? What were they hoping to achieve? The question unnerved me and I was determined to find an answer.

Just when I thought things couldn't get any weirder Johanna Mason joined the group. She was strong, vicious and volatile and I had to wonder how on earth was Katniss going to rid herself of the veteran victor.

Even though she wasn't very fond of Katniss her interactions with Finnick were almost sweet, and she appeared to be genuinely moved by Mags's death. They'd probably known each other for years. Their alliance made sense.

I thought back to Katniss's previous Game. She'd only had two allies then. The first one had been the small intelligent girl who had clearly reminded her of Prim. The strong bond they'd shared had been evident.

Her second ally had been Peeta, and she only joined him after the rules had been changed when she thought she wouldn't have to kill him to survive. I was obviously expecting her and Peeta to have some sort of joint strategy this time around, but I hadn't expected anyone else to join them.

Regardless of how anxious these arrangements between tributes made me, I had to recognize that Catnip was really benefiting from them. Finnick fed them fresh fish, Wiress's ramblings made them realize that the arena worked like a clock, and when the group decided to raid the cornucopia, Johanna's prowess with an ax was certainly helpful. For once, the Careers didn't seem as strong whenever they were on screen.

The one thing that kept nagging at me was that I couldn't understand why some of these people appeared to be willing to risk their lives for my district's tributes. Katniss and Peeta didn't seem to be aware of it, but the others were constantly finding ways to keep them out of harm's way. I couldn't piece it together. It annoyed me.

XXXXX

"KATNISS!"

Prim's shrill scream pierced the town square. The chilling sound seemed so real it was hard to believe it wasn't coming straight from her mouth. Honestly, if I hadn't been standing right next to her at the time, I might have believed she was being held captive in the arena.

Katniss didn't waste any time, she ran into the jungle as fast as her legs could take her, recklessly disregarding her allies' advice.

My mouth went dry when my anguished cries filled the square. Katniss's desperate look at the sound of my voice tightened my chest with sorrow. By the time she realized the sounds were coming from the jabberjays, it was already too late. She'd been trapped inside the wedge.

Katniss and Finnick had to wait out the hour while the other tributes stood helplessly by on the other side of the wedge's barrier.

Peeta's heartbroken look filled the screens. The fact that the game makers hadn't bothered to use the voices of any of his family members wasn't lost on me. Watching Katniss struggle, and not being able to do anything about it, was torture enough for him.

XXXXX

Once the jabberjay incident was over, things calmed in the arena. The tribute alliance claimed the beach while the Careers braved the horrors each hour brought inside the jungle.

A spark of hope lit within me when I heard Beetee explain his plan to electrocute the Careers. At first, the idea sounded very elaborate but, once I analyzed it, I realized how beautiful it was in its simplicity. A little bit of moisture in the sand, a bolt of lightning and a very special wire, paired with the lure of an empty beach, and the Careers would be history.

It was just like setting one of my snares exactly where I knew the prey was sure to follow. The hunter in me couldn't wait to see their plan in motion.

I was grateful for Peeta's prudent approach when Katniss suggested breaking away from their allies. It made no sense for them to fight on two different fronts. Things within the alliance were bound to get ugly once the Careers were gone, but, until then, it was in their best interest to stick together. There weren't that many tributes left in the arena at that point.

XXXXX

I was at home, sitting on the battered old couch my dad had built back when he and my mom were newlyweds. Rory and Vick were sitting on the floor directly in front of me. They were playing with the set of dominoes that Katniss had given Rory on his last birthday.

My mom came into the room, a doll-wielding Posy trailing behind her, and sat next to me. A few seconds later the old TV set came to life, the mandatory viewing transmission had begun.

Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickerman showed up on screen. I had always disliked watching the Games and everything they represented, but having these two uninvited guests inside my home giving us updates on Katniss's situation always made it worse. I felt like their presence on the screen infected my home with their extravagant costumes and fake Capitol accents. After watching their usual inane commentary on the day's events inside the arena, we were connected to the live feed.

The sun had set inside the arena. The allies were still on the beach and, so far, it looked like everything was going according to plan.

Katniss and Peeta had taken the first watch while everyone else slept. They were sitting on the damp sand, facing away from each other.

Every once in a while, the cameras would show shots of the Careers and Chaff spending the night hidden away in wedges that weren't active. It was a slow night for the audience and I hoped the game makers wouldn't get restless.

Eventually, Katniss and Peeta were back on screen. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat when Peeta started talking about Haymitch and the deals he might have made with them.

"He made me promises as well," he said.

I started wondering just how honest this conversation between them was going to be. Was he still trying to manipulate the audience and to gain sponsors, or was he actually trying to convince Katniss of something?

He kept on talking about how different their circumstances were, and when he said, "there are other people who'd make your life worth living," I froze in my seat.

He went on to remove the gold disc that was hanging from his neck and slid his finger along the side of it to pop it open.

My jaw dropped.

The image projected, on a full close-up on my TV screen, inside my home, was of my face. I looked around the room and I found four pairs of eyes trained on me. My siblings looked surprised. My mother looked worried. I crossed my arms over my chest and I trained my eyes back on the screen.

Katniss's eyes glazed over and I could see her hand tremble slightly as she held the locket in her palm. Peeta talked about how her family depended on her and how no one really needed him. He sounded more resigned than sad, there was no pity in his voice. He was making a vow, he was ready to give her everything so that she, and her loved ones, could survive.

A lump settled in my throat. I simply couldn't believe what I was watching. How could anyone be this selfless?

Shame washed over me as I recalled all the insults I'd hurled at him in the last year, and all the ways in which I had disrespected him. He was willing to give his life for a girl so that she could be happy with someone else. No, not someone else. He was hoping she would be happy with me. Would she be happy with me?

Almost in perfect sync with my thoughts, Katniss countered, "I do. I need you."

Disappointment flashed across Peeta's face, but just for a second, because Katniss's lips were immediately on his.

My eyes widened in surprise as I watched the girl, who had once been like a little sister to me, small and innocent, attack the blonde with her lips. She was relentless, like an obsessed hunter with her prey, and she wasn't letting go. I was surprised to see that Peeta tried to stop her. He wanted to keep on talking, things had clearly not gone as he'd planned, but she was having none of it. Every time he pulled back she leaned into him again, hungrily pressing her lips to his.

I had seen them kiss hundreds of times. For the most part, their kisses weren't very heated, I'd always assumed that was because they'd been pretending. Later, when Katniss and I kissed, I attributed the lack of spark between us to the fact that I'd caught her by surprise or that I'd been heavily sedated. The more I thought about it, the more I believed that maybe she just wasn't a very passionate person. She had always tried to keep her emotions in check and she'd never been interested in romance. Being so inexperienced and having been forced into playing this love story in front of an audience had probably been traumatic for her. But, as I saw her devour Peeta Mellark onscreen, I realized just how wrong I had been. There was a reason why she'd never kissed me like that; I hadn't inspired her to do it.

The sound of the bolt of lightning hitting the tree at midnight was like music to my ears. Peeta and Katniss had been kissing for a while by then, and the transmission hadn't moved away from them for a second. Clearly, the game makers thought that watching older tributes shiver under palm trees was not as interesting as watching two lovers kiss in the moonlight.

Two lovers. The thought stopped me short.

The noise had brought Katniss and Peeta back to their senses, and as she settled in for the night, and he moved over to stand guard with Finnick, I started to worry again. One thing was painfully clear; the star-crossed lovers had become their own worst enemies. They were playing a very dangerous game; they might both die while trying to keep the other one alive.

My mind flitted back to Peeta's comment about Haymitch and his double deals. Which one of his tributes was the old mentor rooting for?

My mom's voice broke my line of thought. "I'm sorry," she said. Her voice was soft and laced with worry.

"Nah, don't worry mom," I tried to reassure her, "I've known this for some time now."

"But you were still hoping…"

"Yeah. I don't even know what I was hoping for anymore," I added truthfully. "Everything has changed so much. We're not the same people we were."

After giving me a silent nod, she stood up from her place on the couch and went over to the kitchen. "I'll get some food on the table," she mumbled before disappearing into the adjoining room.

I covered my face with my hands, closed my eyes and let out the breath I'd been holding. I was so tired. I felt completely defeated.

XXXXX

**AN**

I want to thank the lovely AlwaysEverlark for the beautiful banner she made for this story.

I love kudos and comments as much as I love Peeta's shy smile. You always make my day when you share them with me. Thanks!

You can also find me on tumblr. I'm javistg over there, come and say hi!

The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.


	3. Fall

**CHAPTER 3. Fall.**

The next morning we watched as the allies got ready for their big plan that night. They rested and feasted on seafood. Their interactions were so relaxed that they almost looked like a group of friends enjoying a day out at the beach.

Looking at Katniss as she stared into Peeta's eyes when he gave her the pearl stung like lemon drops on an open wound, but Peeta's annoyance at her reaction made me chuckle. Good luck getting Katniss Everdeen to follow along with your plans I thought. The fact that his plan was to exchange his life for Katniss's sobered me up immediately.

I'll never fully understand what happened in the arena that night. The images on my TV screen kept jumping from one group of tributes to the next.

Several fights broke out simultaneously. Brutus, Chaff, and Peeta were engaged in battle behind a line of palm trees while Finnick, Johanna, and Enobaria moved through the jungle as they tried to regroup with their allies.

Katniss stood by Beetee's lifeless form and attempted to figure out what his plan had been, and why he'd tried to stab the force field using a pointy stick wrapped in wire. Suddenly, without any warning, she turned around, pointed her arrow towards the force field and let it fly.

The screen went black.

"What's happened, Gale?" Rory's eyes were wide with surprise, "did she shoot at a camera?"

"Hmm, I don't know. I don't think so, though. If she'd just shot at a camera, we'd still have images from the others, right?" I tried to reason.

"Weren't you paying attention?" Vick's impatient tone took me by surprise. "She was clearly trying to replicate Beetee's attempt to fry the force field by using the lightning's electricity against it." We must have looked very confused because he went on to explain, "She wrapped the wire around her arrow before shooting it, and she waited for the lightning to strike. That's why everything's gone black! The TV's still turned on, but the transmission has been interrupted. She blew up the arena. She might not have destroyed it completely, but there's no electricity flowing through it. There's no power to feed the cameras."

"So, what happens now?" Just as the question was leaving Rory's mouth, our tiny house was engulfed in darkness.

I rushed over to the window. The surrounding houses seemed to be just as dark as ours. I opened the window and leaned out. The Seam had never been very well lit but even the lonely lamppost by the end of the street was out. It was eerily quiet outside, and the silence made me uneasy. It was late at night, but the games had been on, and my neighbors had been watching them. Where were they now?

I thought about Katniss, was she still alive? They probably wouldn't allow her to stay that way for long. Up until now she'd played along with the Capitol's requests. But there was no way they were going to forgive her for what she'd just done. They were going to make her pay. They were going to make all of us pay.

The thought chilled me. But, what could we do? We were weak and disorganized and we were trapped, trapped inside that damn fence! The fence!

I turned around and looked at my siblings and my mom, they were all standing in front of me, waiting expectantly.

"Rory, put on your shoes," I instructed. "You need to run over to the Victor's Village as fast as you can. Get Prim and Mrs. Everdeen and take them to the fence. Go to the spot right behind the Hob, it's the weakest point along the district's perimeter. Understood?"

Rory wasted no time following my instructions. He was already by the door when he stopped and turned around to face me. "But Gale, what good will that do? The fence is always turned on now."

"Ugh, Rory, don't be dense!" Vick replied in annoyance. "We're drowning in blackness! There's no electricity here either. The fence is off!"

My mother shot an angry look at my youngest brother, "Vick! This is no time to show off your smarts. Apologize to your brother this instant!"

Vick straightened up under my mother's glare. "Sorry, Rory," he mumbled, "but, you really have to start paying more attention to your surroundings, you know? You won't become a good hunter until you do."

"Enough!" I yelled. "We don't have time for this! Rory, get going. Stay with them, no matter what happens, you hear me?" he nodded in understanding. "We'll meet you there as soon as possible."

Once Rory left the rest of us got moving as well. We grabbed our few pots and pans along with some wooden spoons and we headed out onto the street. We walked through the narrow streets of the Seam, banging our pots with the spoons and calling out to people to leave their homes.

The lights were still out and people were cowering inside their houses, but curiosity got the better of them once they heard the ruckus we were making. Before long the Seam had sprung into action. Thom and a few other of my crewmates started guiding people towards the spot in the fence where Rory was supposed to meet us.

By the time I reached the end of our street enough people were out and about, alerting neighbors and friends and getting them to leave their homes. Once I made sure my mom and my younger siblings were headed towards the fence I started to make my way towards the town.

I had only walked a few steps towards the line of houses that surrounded the Town Square when I saw the hovercraft. There were three of them, suspended in the air, floating above the Town Square. After a few seconds, they started dropping fire bombs.

I ran as fast as my legs would take me towards the fence. By now the streets of the Seam had filled with people. They'd all seen the attack on the town and they were all running away as desperately as I was.

I reached the fence. I was relieved to see someone had already cut through the barbed wire and the fence had been opened. Many familiar faces were already outside, in the woods. But I was startled to realize that, although they were free to move, they were just standing there, milling about. Then it hit me, most of these people had never been outside the barbed wire barrier. We'd all grown up hearing stories about how dangerous the woods were. Most people believed those stories.

Just as I was crossing the fence, I heard a panicked scream, "They're coming again!"

I turned around just in time to see a new set of hovercraft, this time, they were perched above the Seam. We couldn't stay there any longer. It wasn't safe.

"Follow me!" I instructed.

As I made my way into the woods, I could hear the bombs being dropped on what had once been my home. I hadn't seen my family or the Everdeens. I didn't know how many people were actually following me. The only thing I knew was that we had to get as far away as possible.

I reached the large rock were Katniss and I usually met, and I climbed on top of it. From this vantage point, I could see the large group that was trailing behind me and the terrified looks on their faces illuminated by the pale moonlight.

I called out to my family. Rory made his way towards me, Prim's hand safely clasped in his and Mrs. Everdeen trailing behind them. People moved away to allow my mom, Vick and Posy to get near me. Now that I knew they were safe I could start thinking about my next step.

"Rory, please retrieve our bows and arrows from the log," I instructed.

He nodded, then asked, "Katniss's too?"

I could see Prim's eyes glistening with unshed tears. Where's your sister, I wondered. What are they doing to her? I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

"Yes, bring Katniss's bow as well," I confirmed. "We might need it."

We arrived at our destination a few hours later. The small concrete building that had once seen me declare my love for Katniss Everdeen and then storm furiously out into the snow, only to be tortured on the public whipping post, was a welcome sight.

On our first morning by the lake, as I was teaching one of my old neighbors how to cast a line into the water, I felt a soft tug on my sleeve. I turned around to see a blond boy with a worried face looking at me.

"Yes? Can I help you?" I asked.

"Are you Gale Hawthorne?" he enquired.

"Yes, I am. And you are..."

"Toby, Toby Cartwright," he answered shyly.

"All right, Toby, what can I do for you?"

"I'm looking all around for my parents, but I can't find them," he said. His pale blue eyes were quickly welling up with tears.

Just as I was going to reach out to hold him, I heard someone calling out his name. Relief washed over me as I saw a slightly plump girl, about Katniss's age, walking towards us. Her hair fell in soft blond curls over her shoulders, her eyes a deeper shade of blue, a soft smile on her lips.

"There you are silly," she gently scolded him, "I've been looking all over for you. What are you doing here?" she demanded as she wrapped her arms around the little boy.

"I was looking for Gale Hawthorne," he explained.

"Uh-huh, and why is that?"

"Because I heard some people say he's the one in charge. He's the one who brought us here. I just wanted to ask him about mom and dad. Maybe he knows where they are," he finished.

The sad look on the blond girl's eyes told me she knew exactly where their parents were. They were probably back in town, under a pile of rubble, burnt to a crisp.

"Toby," she said looking straight into the young boy's eyes, "I'm sorry, but mom and dad aren't here, and Gale doesn't know anything about them."

Toby started sobbing uncontrollably and his sister held him close. She turned to look at me with a sad smile on her lips. "I'm sorry about that," she said, "you probably have other things to worry about."

"It's fine. I'm sorry I can't do anything for him, though," I apologized pointing towards Toby.

"Please don't apologize, you've already done enough. We wouldn't be here if it weren't for you." As she said that her blue eyes locked onto mine and I was surprised to see real gratitude reflected in them. I held her gaze a little longer. I had seen this girl before, walking through town, but I had never really paid any attention to her. The deep coloring of her blue eyes seemed familiar, though. They were almost like…

"Damn!" I cursed as I slapped my forehead.

"What's wrong?" She asked, surprised by my sudden outburst.

"Have you seen the Mellarks?"

She hadn't.

I spent the next three days teaching people how to fish, hunt, trap and gather. Most of the children spent their time running around the woods and some of them even learned how to swim in the lake's cool water. At night, we would all gather around together and sleep under the stars. The warm summer breeze cocooned us, eliminating our need for sleeping bags.

As I stared into the vast starlit sky, I knew I'd never felt so free in my life. I 'd never been more scared either. These people were relying on me. We'd been lucky so far, but this wasn't a long-term solution. The Capitol might still come looking for us. I didn't want to consider what would happen if they ever found us.

My thoughts kept going back to Katniss. I wondered what had become of her and if I'd ever see her again. The one thing that brought peace to my mind was knowing that her family was safe.

XXXXX

The hovercraft appeared out of thin air. A wave of panic washed over all of the camp dwellers. Our time was up, we'd been found.

The whispered bit of information jumped from one pair of lips to the next. "Thirteen. It's from District Thirteen," the whisper said.

It took several hovercraft rides to transport all of the refugees from the camp into District Thirteen. We were welcomed, upon arrival, by the district's president and her closest advisers.

"Welcome to District Thirteen," President Coin said, "we are pleased to have you here. I was very sorry to hear about the loss of your district. I can tell that you, just like us, are a group of survivors.

"I don't know if you are aware of this, but our country is on the verge of an all-open rebellion against the Capitol. For years now we have waited for an opportunity to end their tyrannical reign. We believe that our wait is over. We would like you to join us in our efforts."

XXXXX

I was in my family's compartment. Sitting on my bed with my back against the wall as I kept replaying the events of the day in my mind. A few hours ago I had been in the middle of the woods, hungry and worried about the responsibility that had landed on my shoulders the moment I instructed my district's survivors to follow me into the woods. I'd done a decent job of keeping them alive, but I didn't think that we would have lasted much longer out there. I was very grateful for the hovercraft's timely appearance.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Soldier Gale Hawthorne?" The small pale woman standing by my compartment's door looked at me with enquiring eyes.

"Yes, that's me." The title of 'soldier' sounded completely foreign to me but, apparently, everyone over the age of 14 was a soldier here.

"I have instructions to take you to the Command Center. President Coin would like to have a word with you."

"With me?" I asked in surprise. Why would the president want to talk to me? Had I done something wrong?

The woman could probably read the apprehension reflected on my features because she turned her lips into a reassuring smile and added, "Yes. You are the person who led the refugees into the woods, aren't you?"

I nodded, almost afraid to interrupt her.

"I believe the president wants to congratulate you on a job well done," she offered.

"Oh! I hmm… mom?" I said turning around to face my mother. "I have to go."

A proud smile danced on my mother's lips as she said, "see you later."

The large group of people assembled in the Command Center surprised me. I hadn't been expecting such a large gathering.

President Coin walked towards me. She held out her hand, I reached out my own and shook it.

"Soldier Hawthorne," she said locking her pale eyes with mine, "Welcome to District Thirteen."

"Thank you, President Coin, and thank you for having us here."

She gave me a tight smile and motioned for me to sit on one of the multiple chairs set around the semicircular table. All conversations stopped and everyone else took their seats. The president sat in the middle of the table, right in front of me.

"Soldier Hawthorne," she began "I want to start by congratulating you. In spite of your young age, and the fact that you've had no proper training, you managed to lead a large number of your people into safety and you kept them alive. I don't know many people who would have been able to do something like that."

I could feel everyone's eyes trained on me, they were all smiling and nodding in agreement. I really didn't know what to say so I nodded once, and waited for her to continue.

"It has come to my attention that you share certain ties with your district's female Victor, Ms. Katniss Everdeen. You are her cousin, correct?"

"No, I'm not," I said, shaking my head. "I'm not her cousin. In fact, we are not related at all. We are nothing more than… friends."

The president seemed a bit surprised by my answer. She lowered her gaze and quickly scanned the file that rested on the table in front of her.

"Well, that's just as well I guess," she muttered, after taking a deep breath she continued, "How much do you know about the current unrest in the districts?"

"Not much," I admitted.

"But, something," she pressed looking straight at me.

"Yes, Katniss did mention something when she returned from the Victory Tour," I confessed.

"Go on."

I could feel every pair of eyes trained on me. I didn't know what to say. I didn't really know that much, besides that one conversation in the cabin, Katniss and I never discussed the situation in the other districts.

"She only mentioned she had felt some tension in the districts," I offered. "And that she had seen people fighting back against their local peacekeepers. But she didn't go into much detail."

The president spoke once more. "Good. I don't know if you're aware of this but Ms. Everdeen has become a symbol of our movement. She has inspired people all over Panem. The courage she displayed when she volunteered for her sister and the way she challenged the game makers with those berries filled the nation with hope. The rebels affectionately refer to her as 'Mockingjay'.

"We have been waiting for something like this for a long time, Soldier Hawthorne, for someone like that, someone who unifies the districts and shows them who the real enemy is. Do you know who the real enemy is, Soldier Hawthorne?"

This time, I didn't hesitate. "Yes, the real enemy is the Capitol. They are the ones that control our food, our resources, and our futures. They are the ones that have kept us divided, the ones that have turned us against each other, even within our own districts."

Every head around the table nodded in agreement. I was suddenly shocked by the fact that I had actually said those words in a room full of people. A room full of government officials no less! And they were all agreeing with me!

The president must have sensed my surprise, "Yes, you are among friends," she assured me, "now, let me introduce you to some of them."

I studied each cabinet member as they presented themselves. Most of them were natives of this underground settlement. Except one, none of them had ever lived above ground and even the one that had didn't remember much about it. They were all pale and even though they didn't seem malnourished, as the people from my district, they didn't look healthy either. Even the president had that same sickly look.

Among all this paleness and dreariness one man stuck out like a sore thumb. As soon as Plutarch Heavensbee opened his mouth I knew that this particular friend came from the most unfriendly of places.

My jaw dropped when he announced that, up until recently, he'd worked for the game maker's office. Then he went on to explain "Yes, Gale. May I call you Gale?" he paused but he didn't really wait for confirmation "I do come from the Capitol. You see, the unhappiness in Panem hasn't been exclusive to the districts. Of course, there is no way you could have known any of this, but people in the Capitol have disagreed with some of our government's decisions for a long time. You already know that the Capitol has spent a lot of time and effort keeping us all divided, pitted against each other. What you don't know is that, even though the media has been portraying Capitolites as vapid, ignorant people who are only concerned with fashion, many of us aren't like that.

"The underground rebel movement has been active for many years, and just like our friends in the districts, we were waiting for a symbol to rally around. I have known for quite some time that that symbol would come to us through the Games. That's why I decided to become a game maker. I knew that one day a tribute was going to challenge the system, and he or she was going to do it on national television no less. So I weaseled my way into the game makers program and patiently waited for that tribute to come forth. She did. And that brings us to the second reason for this meeting. Madam President?"

I was still trying to process the avalanche of information when President Coin began talking again. "For the past 75 years, President Snow has been parading his Victors in front of the entire country. They were presented during their Victory Tours and in the annual Games to remind people of the Capitol's generosity. His Victors represented hope. They were the ones who managed to escape from the arenas, from the poverty and hunger of their districts. And they had done so by surviving under the Capitol's cruel conditions.

"If President Snow had been in the control room during those final moments of the 74th Game he wouldn't have stopped Ms. Everdeen and Mr. Mellark from eating those berries. He knew that asserting the power of the Capitol over two tributes was more significant than having no victor. Fortunately for us, Seneca Crane cared more about showmanship and less about political agendas," the president paused and took a second to look at Heavensbee, who couldn't seem to contain his glee at her last statement.

The president went on, "When the president announced the rules for this year's Quarter Quell we understood just how desperate he was. The victors had obviously become a problem for him and he was desperate to get rid of them."

"And that's where I came in!" Plutarch was beaming with enthusiasm when he interrupted, "as head game maker I was– "

"What?" my face was burning. I felt like I'd just been slapped, "You where HEAD game maker?" I yelled. "You were the one who sent them into that ticking death trap?" I was on my feet, my hands were curled into tight fists and I rested them on the top of the table.

"How can you sit there and talk about friendship and symbols when you are responsible for Katniss's death?" I demanded.

As soon as the words left my mouth I started to shake, she's dead I thought.

"Hey, wait, who said she's dead?" Plutarch questioned. Even though he'd raised his hands defensively, Heavensbee still looked like the cat that ate the canary as he added, "She's not dead. She's alive, very much so. And she's here, in Thirteen."

XXXXX

As I made my way towards the medical unit, I tried to gather my thoughts. I was drowning under the weight of all these revelations. I'd hardly recovered from the shock of knowing District Thirteen was operational and now I had to deal with the notion that the revolution Katniss had described was very real and very organized. Never in a million years would I have guessed that people in the Capitol would work to bring down President Snow's government.

In spite of everything I had just learned, the last part of the meeting was the only one that really mattered to me at the time. Katniss was alive and well in Thirteen. She'd been rescued from the arena, along with Finnick Odair and Beetee Latier. Peeta and Johanna hadn't been that lucky, though. The Capitol had them and, so far, the people in command didn't even know whether they were alive or dead or, if they knew, they weren't telling.

A dull ache settled on my chest when I told Katniss that District Twelve was gone. The sadness in her eyes brought tears to mine and we cried together. She was relieved to hear that Prim and her mom were safe but when she looked into my eyes and said, "They've got Peeta, you know?" I could see how much that fact pained her.

As days turned into weeks I began to worry, not only was I failing to fulfill President Coin's request to get Katniss to agree to act as 'Mockingjay', but I was watching my best friend drowning in her sorrow.

Now that her family was being taken care of and she didn't have to worry about feeding them she just gave into her grief. She would roam the halls without any sense or purpose. Hiding in dark corners and storage closets where she would sob uncontrollably or sit so still you couldn't even tell if she was breathing.

One morning I was surprised to find the words EXCURSION TO DISTRICT 12 tattooed on my forearm. My surprise turned to excitement when I saw Katniss walking with determination towards the idling hovercraft.

"Are you sure you want to do this alone?" I asked right before she was lowered onto our district's remains.

"Yes, I have to do this on my own," she said.

I couldn't understand how she was able to manage a walk through the ruins of our destroyed town when she wasn't even capable of sticking to basic instructions and commands. But, once again, her resolve gave her strength and by the time we were back in Thirteen, I could see a small spark of light in her eyes. Things were beginning to change.

The small glimmer of life I had seen in her eyes earlier in the day turned into a burst of lightning when she saw Peeta on the TV screen. While people all around us cursed at the screen and accused Peeta of being a traitor Katniss couldn't disguise her happiness.

As she ran away from the Command Center, I knew that Katniss Everdeen was back in business. The Capitol had just given her a reason to fight and I couldn't wait to start fighting right by her side.

I understood why she needed to negotiate the terms under which she'd become the Mockingjay, but her demands on Peeta's behalf made uneasy. When she stood in front of Thirteen's president and demanded that the agreements be made public, I was reminded of her first arena. I could just see her in front of me, standing with her hand outstretched, holding those berries up for the cameras to see.

She had challenged one government's rules and she'd barely survived it, why would she do it again? Didn't she realize what was at stake? President Coin had been very patient with her, and forcing her hand like that wouldn't lead to anything good. Luckily enough, President Coin seemed to understand Katniss's motives. She accepted the victor's terms, and thus, the Mockingjay was born.

The next few days were invigorating. I was grateful for the time Katniss and I spent hunting outside of our underground residence. It was the very first time since we left our district when I felt truly happy. While we were outside, we went back to our old hunting routines, having my old hunting partner by my side filled me with joy.

The visit to District Eight was an eye opener. Not only had I never seen another district before, but I had never seen the devastation of war firsthand either.

Every year The Hunger Games would show dozens of children killing each other and dying under the most horrible circumstances, but that in no way prepared me for what I saw when we reached the makeshift hospital in the old textile district. And the fact that the Capitol would actually send hovercraft to attack the helpless the wounded, and the dying strengthened my resolve to fight against it. I was grateful for Thirteen's militarized schooling system as I was finally able to put all of my training into use.

That night there was a knock on my door. I opened it to find Soldier Roberts, the same small pale woman that had come knocking a few days before, standing in front of me.

"Good evening, Soldier Hawthorne, President Coin requests your presence at the Command Center," she said with a polite smile.

The last time she'd showed up on my doorstep I'd been apprehensive, this time, I was eager to see what the president wanted. I quickly said goodbye to my mother and followed Soldier Roberts along the now familiar path that leads to District Thirteen's political headquarters.

The mood that greeted me when I reached the Command Center was one of celebration. President Coin's closest collaborators were walking around the room, patting each others' backs, smiling and laughing. Reconciling this festive atmosphere with that morning's events wasn't easy. The congratulatory noises collided with the memories of bombs exploding over District Eight's makeshift hospital.

I couldn't believe that just hours before I had been running for my life through the rubble of a district that was still mourning the deaths of so many innocent and helpless victims.

"Why is everyone so excited?" I asked Commander Jackson, who was standing in the doorway as I came into the room.

"Looks like Beetee was able to assemble a very interesting propo with the footage from today's attack on Eight," she told me, "he's going to hack into the Capitol's transmission. There's a mandatory broadcast today so our video will be seen everywhere in Panem."

"Oh!" I managed to say. I was going to ask if she had seen the propo when a slap on my left shoulder drew my attention away from her.

"Gale, my boy!" Plutarch was beaming with enthusiasm, "Great job today. Today's propo was just what we needed. Please take a seat, transmission is about to begin and I'm sure you won't want to miss any of it."

As I made my way towards the row of tables assembled around the central table, President Coin clapped her hands a couple of times. The entire room went quiet, all eyes focused on the district's leader.

"Welcome everyone to our first screening," she said with a tight smile on her lips. "Please take your seats, the show is about to begin."

There was some shuffling and murmuring around the room as everyone followed the president's instructions.

Once we were all settled down, she started talking again, "I just want to say that I'm very satisfied by the propo that our camera and edition crew have assembled. Their commitment to our cause shines through their work. I also want to congratulate Commander Beetee Latier for finding a way to infiltrate our enemy's transmissions. Now that we have Panem's ear we will be unstoppable."

A brief round of applause followed her words. The president raised her hand and the applause stopped just as quickly as it had begun. "Very well, Commander Latier, could you please do the honors?" she instructed.

"With pleasure, Madame President."

Beetee took his place by a table that displayed a control panel full of buttons and knobs located at the far end of the room. The lights were dimmed, a TV screen that covered most of the wall was turned on and the show began.

For the second time that day I was faced with the despair and desolation of District Eight. Cressida had captured some incredible scenes inside the hospital. Katniss walking among the injured, their reactions to her, their faces, the way they hung on her every word, the way they consoled her for the loss of her child, the way they assured her that Peeta still loved her.

Some of the comments were silenced, covered by inspirational music while the hopeful looks on people's faces filled the screen. The propo showed the tired, the broken and the weak making their way into Katniss's arms. And then, it showed the bombing. Flames engulfed the temporary hospital. Panicked people desperately tried to escape the fire.

Suddenly, the screen went black and a second later Katniss's determined glare filled the screen. The angle widened to show me standing by her side, eyes locked on the Capitol's hover plane, bows poised, arrows ready to fly. The next scene showed the hover plane's explosion and Katniss's message for the Capitol. "If we burn, you burn with us."

The room erupted in applause. The lights were turned on. Beetee's brow was covered with a sweaty sheen but his smile was wide and proud.

"I still have control over the airwaves!" he announced to a new round of applause. "Madam President, should I release the propo again?"

"Please do, Commander Latier," the president asked. "Release it as many times as you can."

The room went quiet once more as we eagerly awaited the second viewing of the propo.

A couple of seconds after the end of the second viewing Beetee exclaimed, "Damn, I've lost it! They've regained control!" Again the room erupted in applause and the lights were turned on.

Suddenly, Peeta's face filled the screen and the room was silent again.

"So, Peeta," Caesar Flickerman's voice flooded the Command Center, "there seem to be some rumors that say that Katniss Everdeen is now filming propos for the rebels. What do you think about that?"

I held my breath as Peeta tried to convince Caesar of Katniss's innocence regarding these propos. What have they done to him I wondered. The change in his appearance was so drastic, he had lost so much weight and he seemed to be in a lot of pain. His eyes looked bleary and lost. I couldn't believe they could have inflicted that much damage in such a short period of time. Then I realized, I didn't really know when his first interview had been recorded, they could have taped it soon after the Quarter Quell and waited for the right time to release it.

Caesar brought my attention back to the screen when he asked Peeta if there was anything he wanted to say to Katniss.

Peeta nodded, his hushed voice echoed in the silent room, "Ask yourself, do you really trust the people you're working with?"

Peeta's words made my blood curdle. This was the last thing Katniss needed to hear. She'd always defied the authorities and she wasn't trusting by nature. Peeta was probably one of the few people she actually trusted. This message from him would probably send her into a tailspin.

All the improvements we'd made over the last few days might evaporate if she started doubting those around her. Did he even realize what he'd just done? If his physical deterioration was anything to go by he might not even know what he was saying. And if one thing was accurate, it was the fact that those around him couldn't be trusted.

I looked around the room. The festive mood had been quickly replaced by dread, no one dared voice the one thought going through everyone's mind. What would Katniss think of Peeta's message?

"Well, that's a question for the ages, isn't it?" Haymitch's voice broke the silence.

"Please, explain what you mean," President Coin demanded.

All eyes fell on District Twelve's senior victor. He took a deep breath, crossed his arms across his chest and addressed his audience.

"Well, trust is not something that comes easily to victors. And, in Katniss's case, it's even harder to get. I can't say I blame her, though, "he said with a loud sigh. "A little over a year ago she was led into an arena where she was supposed to die. She managed to leave that dreadful place in one piece. But only to be targeted by a tyrant, who wanted nothing more than to have her eliminated, and to make an example out of her to quell the rebellion that was building all over the country.

"Finally, she's given what she thinks is another one-way ticket into a death trap only to be freed from this second arena by a group of people she either doesn't know, or she's thought of as enemies. And, just to tie everything up wit a lovely bow, she loses the one real ally she's ever known in the process. So yes, the question for the ages is: whom does Katniss trust?

"I know that, after my involvement with the rebel plot, she doesn't entirely trust me. She's hardly forgiven me for leaving Peeta behind. Does she trust you, cousin Gale?"

I could feel the room's attention shifting on to me. Their expectant eyes waiting for an answer, "I think she does," I said. "I've always been honest with her. I've never given her any reason to doubt me," I continued somewhat defensively.

Haymitch smirked, then countered, "Yeah, I'm sure you haven't."

"What does that mean?" I demanded.

What was he implying, how had I betrayed Katniss's trust?

I wasn't blind. I knew our relationship had changed after she came back from her first Games. I also knew that kissing her in the woods had only confused things between us and that Katniss had been weary of me after the incident but how was that any of Haymitch's business? Besides, that was all in the past, it had no bearing on what was being discussed at this table.

"Settle down boy," he said with a conciliatory wave of his hand. "Are you sure you're not related to the Mockingjay? You're just as prickly as she is."

After chuckling briefly at his own joke, he went on, "This is the thing Madam President, the girl has been through a lot, and trust is a huge issue for her.

"What worries me about this is not the message itself, but the fact that it was delivered by one of the very few people Katniss actually trusts. There's a very strong possibility that she didn't even see the message, she's in the recovery unit after all. That would definitely simplify things for us. What she doesn't know can't hurt her, right? However, if she did see the message we're going to have to do some damage control. That's were cousin Gale comes in, because, he's right, Katniss does trust him.

The old victor turned to face me once more. "What are you going to tell her boy, when she asks what you think?"

I took a steadying breath and answered, "I'll have to tell her that Peeta can't be trusted."

"You're going to tell her that the one person who's been willing to exchange his life for hers, on more than one occasion might I add, can't be trusted?" his gray eyes were fixed directly on mine.

"I'll remind her that he's being forced, if you consider the way he looks that's probably the truth anyway," I reasoned.

"Yes, I believe you are right about that," he agreed.

The flash of sadness I saw in Haymitch's eyes made me understand what he had just done. He was trying to protect Peeta; he wanted to remind all of us of where he was and what was being done to him.

"So, that's settled then," President Coin's strict voice cut through my thoughts, "No one is to say anything about tonight's transmission to Soldier Everdeen. In the event that she actually saw it, Soldier Hawthorne will be in charge of explaining the situation to her. Is this matter settled, gentlemen?"

"Yes, Madam President," Haymitch and I answered almost in unison.

The president spoke again, "Mr. Heavensbee, is there anything else you'd like to add?"

"Not really, Madam President," Plutarch glanced around the room and added, "I just wanted to remind everyone of the enormous success of today's propos. The quality of the footage, paired with Beetee's technological prowess was very effective. We should start seeing results very soon." He finished with a satisfied smile on his round face.

I left the Command Center with a heavy heart. The whole day had been an emotional rollercoaster. I hoped against hope that Katniss hadn't seen the propo. I didn't like keeping things from her, but I didn't want to discuss Peeta's situation with her either.

**AN**

I want to thank the lovely AlwaysEverlark for the beautiful banner she made for this story.

I love kudos and comments as much as I love Peeta's shy smile. You always make my day when you share them with me. Thanks!

You can also find me on tumblr. I'm javistg over there, come and say hi!

The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.


	4. Waiting

**CHAPTER 4. Waiting.**

I hardly saw Katniss the day after our visit to District 8. My new job with Beetee in the Weapons Development Department kept me busy. When I saw her that night, she was distant and withdrawn. She sat next to Finnick and shared her food and comments with her fellow victor.

After dinner, I walked her over to her compartment and, even though she didn't say anything specific, I could tell that something was gnawing at her.

By the time we finished our breakfast the next morning, we were both angry and hurt. I was sure she had seen Peeta's interview and she'd kept quiet about it.

The thought troubled me. I knew she trusted Peeta implicitly, but the fact that she'd chosen to keep me in the dark meant she wasn't confiding in me anymore. I knew we'd had our differences in the past, but I had foolishly believed that the last weeks together in 13 had put that behind us. Apparently, I had been wrong.

I tried to act like everything was all right, but Peeta's words still hung heavily between us. So, when she confronted me after breakfast, I snapped at her. She accused me of taking President Coin's side over hers; the resentment I saw in her eyes when she did, surprised me.

My beeping communicuff cut our conversation short and I angrily walked away.

I didn't have much time to sulk, though. We were scheduled to film a new propo in District 12 and there was no getting out of it.

The visit to my destroyed district was terribly painful. The memories of what had once been my home collided with the ruins that surrounded us.

Cressida made us walk through the rubble and the corpses while she filmed us. The flicker of anger that crossed her eyes when I showed her the traces of Thread's lashes on my back made me wonder about the reasons she'd had for leaving the Capitol and turning to the rebel side.

By the time we reached the clearing in the woods, I was exhausted. Reliving the bombings hadn't been easy. The thin layer of ash that clung to my skin suffocated me.

Being back in my woods comforted me. In spite of all the changes and destruction that surrounded us, the forest remained the same.

We were lying in the sun, enjoying the fresh air and the scent of pine needles and freshly dampened earth when Katniss began singing.

The song's mournful melody brought tears to my eyes. I remembered my dad singing it when I was little, but my dad's raspy voice was nothing like Katniss's.

I looked around and realized everyone had fallen silent. For a moment, it felt like even the animals in the woods were standing still, and the birds had stopped their song to listen.

I had never heard her sing before and, as the song came to an end and the mockingjays picked up the tune, I remembered Peeta's story. He claimed he'd fallen in love with Katniss after hearing her sing. I remember smirking at the time, thinking he was lying. How wrong had I been! Once again, the baker's son had proven to know more about Katniss than I did.

After our short break in the woods, we headed back to Victor's Village.

While Katniss rummaged through the kitchen's cabinets, looking for herbs or medications that might be useful in District 13, I walked around her house. Except for my recovery period, I had never spent that much time in that place. During her first months as victor she'd never invited me and, after spending those days recovering there, I had always felt like an intruder, so I'd avoided the big, ostentatious house as much as possible.

I walked into the kitchen, the memory of the kiss we'd shared there once weighed heavily on my chest. The words she'd said before kissing me still haunted me. It had taken some time to understand and accept that she'd kissed me because she'd been worried about me and she'd wanted to make me feel better. I knew she loved me, but I was beginning to accept that she wasn't in love with me. And, any lingering doubts I might have still had, had been definitely put to rest by the kisses she'd shared with Mellark on that beach.

But, even though my mind knew these things, my wounded heart (or was it my pride) still needed confirmation. So, I baited her,"This is where you kissed me," I said.

Her reaction was immediate. The kiss was soft and gentle, full of warmth and tenderness. But there was absolutely no passion behind it.

Softly, I pushed her away from me. She seemed surprised when I told her that I had known she'd kiss me.

"How? I didn't even know it myself," she asked.

"You always kiss me when I'm in pain," I told her. "But don't worry, it will pass."

The look she gave me was full of sorrow and, even worse, pity. So I turned on my heels and walked away from her.

When I left the house, she was still standing in the kitchen. I wondered if she understood what this moment had meant, and what her thoughts were. Was she thinking about the last time she'd kissed someone? Was she comparing those kisses to this one?

I knew I was.

For a long time, I had believed that Katniss and I belonged together. I hadn't really considered any other options. Then Peeta had come along and I had resented his intrusion into my life.

The blood inside my veins had practically boiled over every time I saw them kiss during their first Game. But things had changed since then.

I no longer felt entitled to Katniss. She was free to make her own choices, always had been. And, even if she wasn't aware of it yet, she had chosen already.

I hated admitting it, but I couldn't pretend any longer, I knew she hadn't picked me. A nagging weight had settled in the pit of my stomach. And, as I reached the clearing where Cressida and her team were waiting for me, I realized it was guilt. I felt guilty about kissing her.

XXXXX

The next few days went by in a blur. Shortly after returning from our outing into District 12 the Capitol aired Peeta's third interview. Once again, I was shocked to see him.

There was no denying it anymore; his captors weren't very concerned about his wellbeing. I felt light headed when I saw his blood splattered over the white tiles of the interview room. As a hunter, I'd never minded the sight of blood, but the cruelty of the blows he was receiving made my lunch dance uncomfortably inside my stomach.

President Coin's reluctance to accept Peeta's warning annoyed me. He was evidently being punished for disclosing classified information. Fortunately, Haymitch and Katniss wouldn't take no for an answer and, after a brief discussion, they managed to convince the district's leader that, even if the information was wrong, it had been delivered in good faith.

I left the Command Center and hurried to the compartment I shared with my family. When I got there, I found that my mother and siblings were all ready to evacuate. My brothers were standing by the door awaiting instructions.

I couldn't help but smile at the sight, the last time we'd had to leave our home there had been arguments and bickering, not peace and order. I briefly wondered whether 13's strict militarized system was providing my siblings with the sound structure they needed to achieve their potential or if it was only turning them into mindless drones.

I directed my now docile family towards the emergency bunkers and decided to look into the Everdeen's quarters. I'd hardly reached Katniss's compartment when I heard Prim's voice.

"Come on! Don't be like that. I know you're scared, but we have to get going," her voice was soft and soothing, but there was a sense of urgency to her tone.

Who is she talking to? I wondered.

The deep growl that followed her words answered my question before I could even ask it.

"Prim! What are you still doing up here?" I scolded as I walked into the room. "You're supposed to be downstairs with everyone else!"

I knew my tone was harsh but I had never found the girl's devotion to her pets as endearing as her sister did, and I had no patience left. We were under threat. Buttercup's survival wasn't a top priority on my list.

"Oh! Hi, Gale, I had to come back for Buttercup. I couldn't just abandon him," she quickly explained, a hint of guilt lacing her words.

"Well, you have him now. Let's go!" I instructed.

Without another word she wrapped her arms tightly around the surly feline, securing him against her chest. We rushed towards the staircase which lead into the bunkers that would keep us safe from the bombs which were about to drop on our heads.

XXXXX

Time seemed to stretch indefinitely while we were inside the bunker. I hated every second of it. Being so far underground, and hearing the structure as it shook and cracked under the pressure of the explosives, brought back memories of the mines.

The lack of fresh air and light, the long endless days covered in soot. Fortunately, President Coin updated us regularly and after three days of being cooped up inside the bowels of the earth, we were allowed to resurface.

The first thing I did, once I was allowed to leave the bunker, was head outside. The communications group was already assembled in the open space that had once been the district's town square.

Katniss was there, surrounded by the usual production team. Cressida was feeding her some lines. Plutarch was probably in a hurry to show President Snow that the attack hadn't affected us and that the Mockingjay was alive and well.

Katniss tried repeating the lines Cressida had given her but, after a few attempts, she simply broke down. The girl who had unified a nation with her determination and her resolve looked broken, small and lost, as she cried inconsolably, clinging to her mentor's arms.

A couple of hours later, an emergency meeting was called. President Coin and her advisors wanted to know what the next step was. The Mockingjay was broken, and they wanted to know if there was any way to fix her.

After much discussion, Plutarch reached the only logical conclusion, Katniss was worried about Peeta, and she had finally realized that everything she did was being taken directly out on him. The only way to get her to do anything was to remove the threat to Peeta's safety. The time had come for the Mockingjay's district partner to be rescued.

Once the rescue operation was approved, Commander Boggs went on to explain the details of the extraction plan. Six volunteers would be asked to fly to the Capitol. Then, with the aid of some sleeping gas and Beetee's diversion tactics, they would enter the President's Mansion where, according to Plutarch's informants, the victors were being held.

He'd hardly finished asking for the volunteers to come forward when my hand shot straight up.

"I'll go," I added with as much security as I could muster.

I was about to board the hovercraft that would take us to the Capitol when Haymitch Abernathy approached me.

"You sure you want to do this Hawthorne?" he asked looking straight into my eyes.

I nodded, "Absolutely. It's about time I did something for him. I don't like owing people."

"How very Seam of you," he added as he rolled his eyes. He dropped his voice to a deep whisper and added, "Just be careful, you hear? Sweetheart would never forgive herself if something happened to you out there. Not over this."

"Don't worry, I don't plan on staying there for more than I have to," I assured him.

XXXXX

I had only been on one mission before, and the rescue mission was nothing like that one.

My visit to district eight had been filled with chaos, blood, dirt, destruction and open spaces. The visit to the Capitol was absolutely organized. We moved swiftly, under the cover of darkness, and we extracted our targets without even having to touch a single one of their captors.

After the hovercraft had dropped us on top of the President's Mansion, we scurried along narrow hallways and through darkened staircases. By the time we reached the basement, the sleeping gas had already worked its magic and all we found were some Peacekeepers lying around, sleeping as soundly as babies.

It wasn't hard to identify the rooms were the victors were being held. The heavy doors with large digital locks were a dead giveaway.

Thanks to Beetee's intervention, all the security systems were down. All we had to do to access the holding cells was push the doors open.

My heart dropped to my stomach when my eyes landed on Johanna Mason's sleeping form. I remembered watching her during the Quarter Quell, admiring her spirit, worrying about what she would do to my friend once their alliance was broken. But, as I saw her small dirty form twisted at an awkward angle on top of an old mattress, I felt nothing but sorrow.

I reached over to where she was lying and examined her. Her head had been shaved and you could see purple bruises blossoming all over her thin body. There was a nasty cut on her upper lip and a few others along her arms and legs. She had lost so much weight that she looked like an empty sack of bones.

I gingerly gathered her in my arms. I didn't dare hold her too tightly, afraid that I might crush her.

I went back the same way I had gone in and met with the rest of my squad. Mitchell, another one of the volunteers, was holding Annie Cresta's sleeping body. She looked thinner and paler than I remembered her from TV, but other than that, she seemed to be in good shape.

A few seconds later, Boggs joined us. He held a sleeping Peeta Mellark securely in his arms.

Once we were back inside the hovercraft, I chanced a glance in Peeta's direction. He looked even worse than he had during his last interview, thinner and paler. There were dark circles under his eyes, and the punches he'd received in front of the cameras had turned into angry purple bruises that covered his arms and chest.

There were a couple of gashes on his forehead as well. But what surprised me the most were the puncture marks on his arms.

Boggs, who was seating next to me, must have read the question written on my face because he pulled me closer to him and whispered in my ear, "I don't know what they've been doing to him. I found him strapped to what looked like a hospital bed. There was a machine plugged into his arm. I guess they overdid it the other day and they were trying to keep him alive a little bit longer."

A chill ran down my spine and I released a shaky breath.

"Good thing we came for him today then," I whispered back.

I closed my eyes and let the sound of the wind whipping against the hovercraft soothe me. After a few steadying breaths, I let my mind wander again in Peeta's direction. His resilience never ceased to amaze me. He always seemed to push through. The odds were never in his favor and, still, there he was, battered and bruised but on his way to safety.

The mission had been a success. We had pried them free from the Capitol's clutches. And still, as my eyes flitted from Johanna to Peeta's sleeping form, I didn't feel successful.

I was suddenly overcome with the notion that, while these people had been hurt in ways I couldn't even begin to imagine, I had been playing at war. Being constantly protected by some of 13's finest soldiers and shielded by my status as the Mockingjay's partner.

These victors, who had been strong enough to survive two arenas, had almost lost their lives while I had been playing with the lovely toys Beetee had designed for me. I was humbled by the thought.

The truth was that I had done something good; I had raided the Capitol and had rescued them. I had reached them before President Snow could hurt them even more. They were safe now. So, why did I feel so defeated?

Why did I feel like I hadn't done enough?

XXXXX

**AN**

I want to thank the lovely AlwaysEverlark for the beautiful banner she made for this story.

I love kudos and comments as much as I love Peeta's shy smile. You always make my day when you share them with me. Thanks!

You can also find me on tumblr. I'm javistg over there, come and say hi!

The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.


	5. Waiting (II)

**CHAPTER 4. Waiting (II)**

I was six years old the first time my father took me out into the woods. It was early spring, Rory was just a few months old and my old man decided it was time I started behaving like the older brother I was.

"Right now your brother is fragile and defenseless," he told me, "but, one day, he'll be big enough to go under the fence. When that day comes, you'll have to show him everything I'm about to show you."

"Me?" I wondered in amazement, "Why?" My surprise turned into suspicion, "Where will you be?"

My father shook his head and chuckled softly, "The same place I'm always at," he said. "I'll still be working in the mines from sunup 'till sundown. But you, you'll still be in school and you'll be able to help me train him."

I couldn't believe my ears! My father was going to share his knowledge with me!

I had always been curious about my dad's Sunday outings. I never knew where he went. I only knew that he disappeared as soon as the first rays of sunlight filtered through my bedroom window and that he always came back a few hours later, his hunting bag heavy with whatever he'd found that day.

I remember watching mesmerized as he pulled rabbits, badgers, birds, fish and even the occasional squirrel out of his satchel. I'll never forget the proud smile on his lips and the mischievous glint in his eyes as he presented these riches to his family; the satisfaction that tinted his voice when he asked my mother to clean up the day's haul.

The announcement made my heart flutter happily inside my chest. He was going to take me with him! He wanted to share his secrets with me and he expected me to pass them on to Rory someday.

I still couldn't believe it, so I asked, "Really?"

My father let out a deep chuckle before he confirmed, "mm-hmm, will that be alright with you?"

"Yes!" I answered enthusiastically, "I'll do it, dad! I'll help you train Rory when he's old enough."

"Good. Now, before you can even think about training anyone, you have to learn yourself. Are you ready?"

I straightened up and looked directly into his eyes. I was just a kid, but I felt like a grown man, tall, strong and proud as I said "ready."

Over the next few years, my father taught me everything he knew about the woods. By his side, I learned how to move noiselessly over the dampened leaves that covered the forest's floor, and to watch and analyze different creatures and their habits.

I learned that creating an effective snare was as much about understanding your prey's instincts as it was about the technical ability to build the traps themselves. I became aware of the fact that our own motivations were not that different from our prey's. In the end, it doesn't really matter if you're the hunter or the target. We all just want to survive and to protect our loved ones. Your success as a hunter depends on your ability to use this knowledge to your advantage.

I remember those Sundays with my father as some of the happiest days of my life. Being outside the fence filled me with a strong sense of pride that almost made me forget about the dreariness that surrounded every other aspect of our lives. By the time Vic was born, I had moved on from placing snares and collecting berries and was on my way to learning how to gut and dress an animal on the field.

For Rory's fourth birthday my father took me to the Hob and introduced me to Greasy Sae, and to some of the other vendors from the underground market. I remember walking next to him, trying to look as tall as he was while my small satchel, fat with that day's haul, banged against my hip with every step I took.

Every person I met that day looked straight into my eyes and patted my shoulder firmly. I felt knowledgeable and proud. The fact that I was able to contribute a big badger, and a bucket full of berries, to the trade that bought my brother's birthday present, only heightened my sense of accomplishment that day.

My twelfth birthday landed on a Sunday. I remember waking up before the sun came up and heading out towards the fence while the rest of the Seam still slept. Even though some of my schoolmates made a big deal about turning 12, I wasn't expecting anything out of the ordinary. Going under the fence with my father was special enough.

After we'd collected the game our snares had caught, we sat under a tree. The late summer sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky. Small beads of sweat ran down along the back of my neck.

We sat there for a few minutes, enjoying the soft breeze that never seemed to reach the district, but that somehow managed to dance between the trees that lined our woods.

"Gale?"

My father's raspy voice startled me. I turned to face him and the pained expression I saw on his face pulled at my heartstrings.

"What's wrong, dad?"

He swallowed thickly and said, "It's your birthday today, your twelfth birthday. Do you know what that means?"

I snorted lightly. Of course, I knew what that meant. Everybody knew what that meant. It meant my life wouldn't be my own for the next six years, not entirely.

In just ten short months –yes I had been counting the months, the weeks, even the days, to be honest– I would be expected to stand, surrounded by my peers, in the Town Square while a representative from the Capitol gambled my life away.

Turning 12 meant that I was no longer a boy; in the eyes of the Capitol, I was a prospective tribute.

"Yes. It means that I'm eligible for the Games," I replied.

My dad closed his eyes and nodded. The silence that followed was only broken by the sound of his shaky breaths. The sight worried me and I felt my heart plummet into my gut.

My father was strong and resourceful and he commanded respect, not only from his family but from his peers as well. But, at that moment, he looked as empty and broken as those poor souls who loitered outside the Hob and stretched out their palms in the hope that someone might be able to share a morsel of food with them.

When he spoke again, his voice was almost a whisper, "I need to ask you something."

"Anything, Dad, "I offered anxiously in a desperate attempt to comfort him.

He released a shaky breath, shook his head at my impatience and went on, "I'm sorry, son. I wish I could do better for you, but I can't. We have a large family. You and your brothers bring joy into my life every day, and I couldn't be prouder of you if I tried. But the sad truth is that with every passing day you grow and, even if you don't mean to, you need more: more food, more clothes, more coal. And I just… I don't have more."

A shiver ran down my spine. My heart was pounding in my ears and I took a deep breath, trying to control it, but it didn't work. I knew what was coming. I had always known. I was a Seam kid, after all, and even if my dad was one of the few people who were brave enough to hunt outside the fence, our life wasn't easy. We still struggled to get by.

I'll never forget the look of utter despair I saw in my father's eyes as he turned to face me and said, "I need you to sign up for tesserae."

I nodded numbly, too afraid to open my mouth and have my voice betray the heartbreak I felt.

I reached out my hand to him; he took it in his and shook it, squeezing it firmly between his long calloused fingers.

"Thank you, son," he whispered.

I wasn't expecting to find my mother waiting by the school entrance the next day. I couldn't even remember the last time she'd collected me at the end of a school day. My first reaction was to tense up with worry. Had something happened at the mines? Had my brothers been injured somehow?

Concern must have been written all over my face because she rushed towards me and smiled.

"Everything's ok," she said as she rubbed her thumb over my cheek, tracing circles over the soft skin. The simple gesture a reminder that I was still a kid.

"I just thought you might want some company today," she added.

I let out a relieved sigh and smiled, "thanks, ma."

"Let's get going then." She let go of my face and held her hand out to me, "we only have 30 minutes before the registration office closes."

It only took a couple of minutes to reach the government building where a sullen, middle-aged woman asked for my name and pricked my finger to get a blood sample for their records.

A single drop of blood was all it took to bind me to the tesserae program irrevocably. In just a matter of seconds, my entries into the reaping bowl had gone from one to six.

Ten months later, I stood in the middle of the Town Square and hoped with all my heart that the six slips of paper containing my name would go by unnoticed by Effie Trinket's fingers.

I'll never forget the relief laced with guilt that exploded inside my chest every year as I heard someone else's name being called onto the stage. For seven years, I was forced to stand by while other children were sent to the slaughter.

Some of them held their ground while others shook like delicate autumn leaves about to take flight as they stepped up onto the stage. Some were younger than me, and most were shorter, but all of them, except for one, were burdened with the same responsibilities I'd had. Most of our tributes were selected because their parents needed their help to make ends meet.

Even the best of Seam families couldn't survive without tesserae, so every year a couple of children were forced to pay for their survival with their lives. It was absurd and enraging, but it was just a small sample of the many ways in which the Capitol kept us under their thumb.

Once I started taking out tesserae, my father began treating me differently. He might have felt guilty for not being able to provide for his family without recruiting my help, but I didn't blame him. I knew better. I knew how small his wages were. We needed the income from our hunting, and my tesserae, to keep my brothers away from the registration office. I didn't mind putting myself at risk, not when it meant keeping them as safe as humanly possible from the Capitol's clutches.

Over the months that followed, he became more talkative. He started confiding in me, explaining all the ways in which the Capitol controlled our bodies and manipulated our minds. He talked about the tesserae and the unfairness of a system that ensured the poorest people in the district would remain that way while those who already had more managed to keep it.

On the day he helped me set my very first snare line, giving me full control over it, he told me, "as you grow older you might feel like you're out of options. This is what the Capitol wants you to believe, but it's not true. They might take away your sweat and even your blood. They can build fences to keep us contained, but remember, they can't take away what you hold in your mind or in your heart. You are strong Gale. You will always have options. Don't believe them when they tell you otherwise."

A few weeks later the mines exploded taking my father's body, his mind, and his heart away from me.

As I stood at the mine's entrance watching people come and go looking for their loved ones, I knew I would never see him again. We would never laugh together, we would never argue about the merits of a standard noose compared to a double notch, and we would never walk arm in arm into the Hob ever again.

My sister Posy was born a few weeks later. All the sadness I felt over my father's loss was multiplied by a thousand when I realized he'd never meet his beautiful daughter, and she'd never get the chance to sit on his lap or hear his booming voice.

My father's death allowed the number of reaping entries associated with my name to remain the same. I would have gladly added my name a few more times into the bowl if it meant keeping him by my side. As it was, I had no choice but to miss him and to try to honor his memory.

Even if my heart was broken, I had made a promise, and I was determined to fulfill it. I still hadn't taught Rory everything my father had taught me. I still had to protect them, to keep them safe. I would sacrifice whatever I had to, and I would run all the necessary risks. I would keep my family as far away from the Capitol's grip as I could.

At first, I worked on my own. I retraced the steps my father had taught me, always keeping to the same areas of the woods and only going where I was certain I would find game. My family's survival was at stake and I didn't want to take unnecessary risks. But as months went by, I became more confident, and I began to explore a little bit more.

It was around that time, as I was checking on a new snare line, that I ran into Katniss Everdeen for the first time. She was only a couple of years younger than me, but she was so small that I thought she was Rory's age. But, unlike Rory, who was anxious and easily distracted, she was focused, and she seemed to be perfectly at ease inside the woods.

I soon discovered that whatever she lacked in size she made up for in character and determination. She was a born survivor and, just like me, she had been entrusted with the great responsibility of keeping her family afloat. I'll never forget our first negotiations or how we argued for hours on end. We were two stubborn children trying to set the rules of a game, neither of us willing to let the other one have the upper hand.

That stubborn girl went on to become the best hunting partner I could have hoped for. She was smart, resourceful and very skilled. Sharing the burden of my responsibilities with her lightened my load, and I found myself enjoying the woods with her almost as much as I had with my father. But good things never lasted for long in 12, and my partnership with Katniss Everdeen wasn't meant to be an exception to the rule.

XXXXX

I was in the medical unit, standing in the doorway that lead into Katniss's room. Two days had gone by since Peeta had attacked her.

She was lying in bed, unconscious. A respirator pumped air into her lungs and a rigid neck brace immobilized her. I couldn't stop my eyes from following the angry bruises Peeta's hands had left on her soft skin. They were like black tendrils, fighting to escape the tight confines of the silver band that protected her throat.

The thought of him wrapping his strong fingers around her throat, and trying to squeeze the life out of her lungs, made my stomach turn. A shiver ran down my spine, and I wrapped my arms around myself in an attempt to keep the coldness that encased me at bay. It was useless. I still couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that she had come so close to dying while I was getting stitched up for my clumsiness just a couple of doors down the hall.

The fact that I had attempted to carry Johanna Mason back into the landing dock without opening the hovercraft's glass door only made me feel stupid. And knowing I had been receiving medical attention for such a small thing while Katniss fought for her life still made me nauseous.

"She's going to be ok, you know?"

The raspy voice startled me. I turned around and found Haymitch Abernathy standing a few steps behind me, his gray eyes trained on mine.

"Yeah? What do you know?" I countered.

"Just what the doctors tell me," he said with a shrug. "They've been monitoring her progress and they're happy with the results. They want to take her off the respirator tonight."

I turned towards Katniss's sleeping form once more. I was actually relieved by Haymitch's words, but I wasn't about to tell him that. Instead, I asked, "and how is he doing?"

"He?" he asked, stretching out the word, feigning confusion. "Oh! You mean Peeta, right?"

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I tried to fight my growing frustration with the older victor's tendency to protect the baker's son.

"Yes." I conceded, "Peeta. How is he?"

"He's still under sedation. They're trying to figure out the extent of his 'hijacking' but it doesn't look too good."

There was that word again. Hijacking. A single word that meant nothing but that was somehow supposed to explain everything. How could one word describe the way Peeta had been transformed by the Capitol?

Beetee had tried to explain it, how they had used tracker jacker poison to scare and confuse him. How they had conditioned him to be afraid of Katniss. How he'd only attacked her because he thought his life had been threatened.

But it still made no sense to me. I knew Peeta Mellark. Even if I didn't like to admit it, I knew he was kind and loyal, and he had always placed Katniss's safety above his own. I couldn't imagine words that could turn his devotion into dread.

I turned towards Haymitch. He looked pale and defeated. There were deep, dark circles under his eyes. The forced sobriety and Peeta's situation were probably keeping him awake at night.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means they don't know what to do," he answered, shaking his head despondently. "It means they're afraid of him. They're also afraid of what's going to happen once sweetheart here wakes up," he added nodding in Katniss's direction. "They don't really know how to break the news to her."

"She's not going to be happy," I mumbled.

After nodding slowly, he went on, "So… what's your plan?"

My plan? I had no plan. I barely understood what was happening around me, and he expected me to have a plan! I shrugged. A sense of defeat wrapped around me like a wet blanket.

After letting out a tired sigh, Haymitch went on, "Well, in a few hours, your friend over there is going to wake up. She's going to discover that one of those precious few she trusts has been tortured and programmed to attack her. You saw what she was like before the rescue. How do you think she's going to react?" He paused for a moment, allowing a myriad of unhappy scenarios to unfold in my mind.

He spoke again, carefully punctuating every word, "How are you going to deal with her? What is your plan?"

"I don't know!" I said shaking my head in desperation, "I have no idea!"

I could feel my chest constricting with anxiety. Frustration bubbled over and I lashed out at him, "You keep asking me to handle her, but I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I used to know her better than I knew myself. At least, I thought I did, but now… everything's changed."

I paused as I tried to reign in my temper. I didn't want to antagonize him. I needed him to know I understood. We were on the same team after all and, despite my anger, I knew I couldn't blame Peeta for his actions, not entirely.

After a moment, I tried again, keeping my voice even as I went on, "I get it, okay? I know how she feels about Peeta. But when she drags her feet, and she hides in closets, and she refuses to eat, it's just…"

A cold sweat broke out over my body making me shiver. I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms and took a deep breath before continuing. "You know, her mother was like that after Mr. Everdeen died. Katniss told me once that her mom just sat in a corner and did nothing. She said she'd hated her for it. That was why she started hunting when she was 11. She had to. Otherwise, Prim and she would have ended up in the Community Home. So now, when I see her like this… I just don't understand.

"This isn't the Katniss I know. Why is she turning into her mother? Why isn't she fighting this?"

I could see the old victor shaking his head beside me; a soft humorless laugh left his body. "It's the price of love kid," he said, "Her mother was in love. And so is she."

We turned to face one another, his gray Seam eyes were laced with sadness when he said, "sorry, by the way, I know you had expectations."

I dismissed his comment with a wave of my hand. "No, don't be. I really do get it. He's been willing to sacrifice everything for her. He's won her over. I can accept that."

I couldn't accept that the person who had been willing to put a handful of deadly berries in his mouth; the one who'd sat on the beach with Katniss and had given her the locket with my picture in it; the one who'd been willing to sacrifice everything for her; was the same person who was heavily sedated, and strapped to a bed, just a few doors down the hall.

I couldn't deal with the sadness that threatened to overwhelm me every time I thought about the holding cell where we'd found him; or when I considered what it must have been like to be him. Left behind enemy lines, struggling to stay alive. Trying to keep his allies safe, even when he'd been tortured and lied to.

I couldn't begin to imagine the kinds of things that had been done to him, the abuse, and the neglect he'd been subjected to. How lonely he must have felt when they showed him the propos produced by the rebels. I wondered how President Snow and his henchmen had bent reality to make him believe that Katniss was out to get him. How had they managed to twist his soul? How had they turned Katniss's most loyal ally into her deadliest enemy?

Suddenly, I could hear President Coin's question from a few weeks ago ringing in my ears, "Do you know who the real enemy is, Soldier Hawthorne?"

I had known the answer since I was a 12-year-old signing up for tesserae, and I hadn't forgotten it. President Snow's Capitol was the real enemy. That's where all of our problems came from. We would never be free as long as they existed.

After a quick goodbye in Haymitch's direction, I left the medical unit and headed to the weapons development department. Once there, I rushed towards the underground garden that had been created by the people of 13 to study the habits of different species. It was a poor substitute for the real outdoors, but it was the only place in the underground maze where I felt like I could truly breathe.

On my way there, I grabbed one of the tablets I had been using to take notes and to keep track of my ideas and projects.

I sat down on the soft grass, stretched my legs in front of me, and rested my back against a tree trunk. The soft flutter of hummingbird wings filled the air. I took a deep breath and, as I slowly released the air out of my lungs, I tried to open my mind.

I focused on the things I knew, the indisputable facts.

I was 14 when I lost my father to the Capitol's negligence, and 18 when I lost Katniss to its cruelty.

As soon as I aged out from the reapings, I was thrown into a dark, suffocating pit where days seemed to stretch endlessly.

My Sunday outings had become my only lifeline, but whatever sense of freedom I managed to hold onto while working in the mines was crushed by Thread's lashes. I'd never be able to repay my debt to my district's victors. If they hadn't interfered that day, I'd be dead and my family might not have made it through the winter.

On my 19th birthday, President Snow stood in front of the entire country and read the rules for the upcoming Quarter Quell. His message that night had been a reminder of just how powerless we were against the Capitol's reign. Thinking back, I knew we shouldn't have been surprised when our entire district went up in flames.

But things had changed since then, yes they had obliterated our district, but they hadn't eliminated us, not entirely. And Katniss… The Capitol had taken her and turned her into a victor, but the rebels had adopted her as a symbol and they loved her.

Her actions inside the arena had inspired the country, and her propos had immediately unified the rebels. They had given them hope and strength and they had probably terrified the Capitol leaders.

President Snow and his cronies must have noticed the effect the Mockingjay was having on the rebel troops. They were probably following the uprising as closely as we were, as they counted their allies, and calculated their weapons and their strength. That was why they had been so intent on breaking her. They knew that without a Mockingjay to rally around, the rebels might not have enough common ground to stick together.

Figuring out Katniss's weakness had probably been easy. Anyone watching the Quarter Quell could see how desperate she was to keep Peeta alive. I still remembered how she fell apart when she thought he'd died after hitting the force field.

They must have been thrilled when they got their hands on him. But keeping him under lock and key wasn't enough. They needed her to know he was alive and trying to protect her; that was why they aired his first interview. To lure her out of hiding, to force her out onto the spotlight where they could see her.

Once they were certain she was collaborating with the rebels, they released a new interview. This one was a personal message, addressed to her. This time, they didn't hide Peeta's condition. They wanted her to see what was being done to him. They wanted her to know he was in danger and they wanted her to worry about him.

They succeeded in making her anxious, but she didn't stop her campaign against them, so they attacked again. Peeta's last interview had been clearly staged to push her into action. How could she stand back after witnessing the brutality with which they'd treated him?

They knew we would rescue him. We had to. Our hands were tied. We still needed our Mockingjay and they knew she wouldn't fly while Peeta was being tortured. So we fell directly into their trap. We extracted the weapon they had carefully crafted and lovingly delivered it into her arms. A beautiful present that exploded in her hands.

As I analyzed all this information, I drew up a simple outline, detailing the basic concepts behind President Snow's plan.

First, he'd dangled his bait in front of his target.

Then, he'd made the target believe the bait was in danger and required assistance.

Once the target had rushed to help the bait, Snow had struck back, turning the alluring bait into a deadly weapon.

As I reviewed the strategy I couldn't help but admire its simplicity. The basic principles my father had once taught me came back to my mind.

"Remember Gale," he'd said, "it doesn't matter if you're a badger, a squirrel, a human or a fox. In the end we all want the same thing, we just want to survive and to keep our loved ones safe. Your success as a hunter depends on your ability to use this knowledge to your advantage."

President Snow had turned out to be a very proficient hunter, but there was a chink in his armor, he had probably forgotten what it was like to be prey. His wicked plan had backfired. Katniss was still alive and, now that she knew Peeta was safe, she wouldn't waste any time reassuring the rebels of her commitment to the cause.

I wondered how Snow would react once the tables were turned on him. The thought of Katniss rallying the troops and helping them conquer the last strongholds of Capitol resistance in the districts made me lightheaded with anticipation.

I had waited long enough. I was sick and tired of standing by while the Capitol played its sick games. It was time for us to gain control and to start calling the shots. It was time they started paying back for all the suffering they'd caused.

I knew Katniss wouldn't just stand by after what they'd done to Peeta, after what they'd tried to do to her. I was ready to see the Mockingjay soar above the Capitol.

I was ready to watch them burn.

XXXXX

**AN**

I want to thank the lovely AlwaysEverlark for the beautiful banner she made for this story.

I love kudos and comments as much as I love Peeta's shy smile. You always make my day when you share them with me. Thanks!

You can also find me on tumblr. I'm javistg over there, come and say hi!

The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.


	6. Ghosts

**CHAPTER 6. Ghosts**

In the days that followed, I devoted myself to my work. Every morning I'd get up before the wake-up call blared throughout the hallways of the underground maze where I slept, and I would dutifully follow the daily timetable printed on my forearm.

Most days began with physical training sessions that focused on improving my skills with the bows Beetee had created. After a light meal, I would head down into the Special Defense area, where Beetee would teach me the laws of physics and mechanics. The old victor would sit by my side as we tinkered with new ways to set traps that could neutralize and conquer our enemies.

By then, I had forged a relationship with the District Three victor which was based on collaboration and mutual respect. He invariably amazed me with all the things he knew. Things which would have made my life ten times easier if I had been able to apply them to the traps and snares I'd used to feed my family and now seemed so basic in my eyes.

This was one of the most precious things the Capitol had withheld from me, the opportunity to explore, and expand, my knowledge of the world that surrounded me.

But, in President Snow's Panem, knowledge had been a dangerous thing. Having a voice, being able to express our opinions, and being heard, had been luxuries we hadn't enjoyed. People who had spoken up, and who had questioned the system, had been considered ungrateful and dangerous. We'd been advised not to take them seriously.

One of the first things Beetee ever told me was that he had never been good at reading people. He also admitted he was mostly unconcerned with what people thought about him.

"It's not like they're bending over backward to share their opinions with me," he said one day. "No one has questioned my actions, or challenged my decisions since I became a victor."

He suspected most of his colleagues were weary of him. After all, they'd all seen him fry 6 of his fellow tributes in one blow. So, while he had been forced to apply his intellect to aid a cause he had never cared for, he had built a wall to protect himself against people's shortsighted opinions.

He had created a safe haven for himself, where his mind could expand and explore, unrestricted by thoughts of morality and social constraints. A place where all that mattered were the ideas that would flow freely onto the drawing board he was so generously sharing with me. Once there, his rough sketches would meet the avalanche of concepts that poured out of my brain.

We worked together for weeks, exploring, learning, discovering, fusing and creating. We developed plans and strategies that covered every single scenario we could imagine.

My father's teachings on basic human needs and behavior stayed with me through it all, and I used them to turn the contraptions Beetee had designed into powerful weapons which targeted our enemy's physical, and psychological weaknesses.

The underground garden became my sanctuary. Time seemed to stand still while I was there. I had spent the last six years taking care of my family, and I had done a damned good job at it. I knew my mother and siblings had appreciated everything I'd done to keep them alive. But I had never felt as valued and accomplished as I felt then.

And, every night, as I made my way out of the underground garden and into the dark passages which lead into the living quarters I inhabited, I felt a smile tugging at my lips. It was a welcome change from the impotence I had felt during those months when I'd been forced to work inside the stifling mines.

Unfortunately, not everything was blue skies and rainbows. Katniss's reaction to Peeta's attack wasn't what I'd expected. The fire and determination I had seen glimpses of when we visited Eight had disappeared completely from her eyes.

Instead of being enraged by what the Capitol had done to Peeta, she seemed defeated and morose. She'd become as unresponsive as she'd been during her first days in Thirteen. Her once vivacious gray eyes were constantly dulled by the morphling running through her veins and the sorrow consuming her spirit.

XXXXX

I was working in the lab one morning. We were adding the finishing touches to one of our most elaborate plans when Katniss suddenly walked in. She looked tired, and she kept her hand firmly clenched around her collar, presumably trying to cover the angry bruises that still lingered on her neck.

"What are these?" she asked in a voice hoarse from lack of use.

I stood silently by while Beetee cheerfully welcomed her into our lab and apologized for keeping me so busy.

"I hope you've been putting his time to good use," she said.

She tried to make it sound like she cared that we hadn't been spending time together. I wasn't fooled.

Beetee, as usual, decided to ignore the indifference in her tone and waved for her to come closer to the computer screen we'd been analyzing.

I stood behind, allowing him to explain all the details of the project we were working on. It was an explosive device we'd developed using the strategic outline of President Snow's attack on Peeta.

I watched her in silence as he spoke. Her eyes scanned every piece of paper scattered around the floor and on our worktable as she tried to understand what it was we were working on. Suddenly, her shoulders tensed. An angry scowl settled on her face.

"That seems to be crossing some sort of line," she said. "So anything goes?"

Beetee and I turned to face each other. I could see he was puzzled by her reaction.

After a small pause, she charged on. "I guess there isn't a rule book for what might be unacceptable to do to another human being," she said.

The confrontation in her voice surprised me, but I recovered quickly.

"Sure there is," I countered angrily, "Beetee and I have been following the same rule book President Snow used when he hijacked Peeta."

She inhaled loudly and fixed her eyes on mine. They looked like two pots of molten steel, and I could feel them skewering through me. I had never seen her that angry.

My whole body tensed, anticipating an attack. And then, without any warning, she simply turned around and stormed out of the room.

I let out a shaky breath and ran my fingers through my hair. What had just happened, I wondered. Why was I being treated like a villain?

This was some of my best work, and I was proud of it. Why did she find it so offensive?

"What's the matter with her?" I mumbled almost to myself.

Beetee's voice reminded me I wasn't alone.

"I've told you," he stated calmly, "not everyone will like your ideas. You have to decide. Are you going to let others dictate what you can and can't do, or will you let successful results be your guide? You are very talented Gale, don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

His words took me back to an entirely different place in time. My father's voice rang in my ears as he explained how precious, and powerful, knowledge was.

He had once told me that, even though it might not look like it, I'd always have a choice. But, after his death, my options had become very limited. My first priority in life had been to keep my family alive. Everything else had been secondary.

I had learned to survive by keeping the system happy. As I child, I'd attended the district school. As a teenager, I had taken care of my siblings, always making sure Cray and his peacekeepers were happy with my wares. And, as an adult, I had worked in the mines.

After my father's death, no one had ever asked what I wanted or what I aspired to. My teachers, the government and the foremen at the mines had made all the decisions for me.

I knew Thirteen's structure was rigid, but still, between those gray walls I had found more freedom than I had ever known. I had been able to choose how and where to apply my talents. I had been included in the planning and development of strategies. My input had been valued. My voice had been heard.

For the first time in my life, I felt as though the world was finally open to me. A world of possibilities, of knowledge; a world where my family could be safe, where my siblings could aspire to more than just being cogs in the machinery which kept the Capitol fat and fed while others starved.

The calculations behind the plan I had been developing with Beetee were sound. I knew the strategy would succeed if we ever got to use it.

Besides, there was no point in analyzing your enemy's tactics if you weren't going to use the information against them. No fact was too insignificant, no strategy unnecessary. We needed every bit of intelligence we could get our hands on if we wanted to overthrow the Capitol.

I was determined to defeat President Snow. I wanted nothing more than to crush him and everything he stood for. I couldn't wait to smash his precious city and watch it burn.

And, if Katniss didn't approve, well... that was a choice she was free to make.

XXXXX

I can't say I wasn't surprised a few hours later when I heard Katniss had requested to be sent to District Two. After her little display in the lab, I couldn't imagine her at the front.

From what I'd heard, things in Two were tense. The rebels, assembled around the heavily fortified military base, were growing restless. President Coin's advisors had been trying to figure out a way to break into the mountain which hid the military base. But, so far, none of their ideas had worked. The extended siege was making everyone anxious.

After having dinner with my family, I decided to head over to the Everdeen's compartment. I knew Katniss was scheduled to leave soon, and I wanted to talk to her. I didn't want our last meeting to be the last conversation we had before she left.

Besides, I hadn't forgotten the request she'd made to keep me by her side when she'd agreed to become the Mockingjay. Even if I didn't know how to deal with this moody version of her, I still wanted to be by her side and to help her if I could.

We sat in the small sitting room which stood in the middle of their compartment. I sat to the armchair, with my back to the bedroom door, while Katniss chose the love seat that was furthest away from me. She kept her hands clasped together on her lap, and her back pressed firmly against the back of the couch.

The scowl on her face told me she hadn't been expecting me. She was clearly still upset over our conversation earlier in the day.

After a few minutes, Prim and Mrs. Everdeen excused themselves and withdrew into the bedroom to allow us some privacy. I can't say I blamed them for wanting to leave the room. Oddly enough, Buttercup decided to stay with us and to curl himself around one of Katniss's legs. I chuckled softly at the sight.

"Seems like you've got a new friend," I said, looking pointedly in the cat's direction.

"Yeah, well it's not like he has a lot of options, you know?" she answered drily.

I nodded as I wondered what to say next. I hadn't expected her to be dancing with glee around me, but the reproach I saw in her eyes surprised me. After a short, uncomfortable pause I decided just to say what had brought me there. We'd never been much for conversation anyway.

"So… I hear you're going to Two?" I began lamely.

"Yeah, we're leaving tomorrow morning."

I nodded. "Do you want me to go with you?"

She dropped her gaze to her lap and shook her head. "No," she answered softly.

My body went limp as disappointment set in. She looked so sad, small and defeated, my heart ached as I thought she wanted to deal with whatever was consuming her on her own. Those days when we'd been so close when we'd shared all of our burdens, seemed so distant. Would we ever go back there?

I was about to ask her if she was sure. I wanted to remind her that I was still on her side –even if we'd had our differences– when she spoke again.

"Listen, thanks for the offer, but I don't need you to come with me," she said. "You'll probably be more useful here, working in the lab. You and Beetee might find something that could help 'crack the Nut.'" After a short pause, she added, "I'll be ok."

I nodded in defeat; there was nothing left for me to say and, if I was perfectly honest, I hadn't really wanted to go. She was right. After all, my work at the lab seemed more important than my job as the Mockingjay's sidekick. But her rejection still stung. I had felt her pulling away from me since we'd landed in Thirteen, but this was different. She had never pushed me away so openly.

I knew we hadn't agreed on much lately, and I still couldn't understand why she was so reluctant to cooperate with the rebels. The thought of her having to deal with the production team's demands on her own made me a bit anxious. I could only hope that she'd be more agreeable than she'd been in the past.

So far, she'd performed well on some of the propos, but she didn't seem to appreciate what these people were willing to do for her or what they had already done.

In any case, I wasn't going to force my company on her when she didn't want it or need it. Besides, at the rate things were going, it probably wouldn't take long for Beetee and me to come up with a solution to the whole 'Nut' issue. And, once Two surrendered, we'd be marching towards the Capitol.

Even if spending some time out in the open, away from Thirteen, didn't help her, the notion of storming down the streets of the Capitol was sure to help improve her mood.

"Who knows," I thought, "maybe this is what she needs to snap out of her misery."

We exchanged a quiet goodbye, and I headed back to my compartment. As I walked through the darkened hallways, I replayed our conversation in my mind. After some thought, I realized that, more than anything, I was relieved.

Over the last few weeks, Katniss hadn't done much for the cause. I knew President Coin's patience was growing thin by the minute. She had been as accommodating and understanding as could be expected under the circumstances. But she was growing tired of waiting for a 17-year old girl to get her act together.

The revolution still needed the Mockingjay, though. That fact alone was enough to buy Katniss some more time. But I could see, in every glance the president threw my way, that we had been getting dangerously close to the moment when Katniss would be reminded of the deal she had struck to keep the victors safe.

Katniss might have been done with the revolution and its politics, but they were not done with her. Not by a long shot.

XXXXX

Two weeks later the official announcement came through. District Two was still under siege, and the rebel army was assembling a team of specialists to deal with the 'Nut'. I couldn't hide the pride in my voice as I told my mother that me, Gale Hawthorne, a 19-year old kid from the Seam, had been included in the team.

XXXXX

I was in the hospital, looking into Peeta's room. He was sitting at a table right in front of me, staring blankly at a white sheet of paper. He held a charcoal pencil, and his hand trembled slightly as it hovered over the blank surface.

The wall behind him was covered in sketches. Black charcoal lines created textures which seemed to cast shadows into the room. The sketches which were the closest to his bed resembled a cave.

As I watched him through the two-way mirror that looked into his room, I couldn't help but wonder how the Hell we had ended up there.

My mind traveled back to the moment when it had all begun. That scorching summer morning when, against all reasonable odds, a 12-year-old girl, and a merchant boy who had never taken any tesserae, were called onto the reaping stage.

I remembered feeling sick with worry over Prim and Katniss's plight. But, despite my worry, there had been a deep, dark part inside of me which had actually been pleased to see a merchant kid walking up the steps leading onto the stage. I can't deny the sick satisfaction I felt as I thought how, for once, a merchant family would know what it was like to stand helplessly by as someone they loved was sent to die.

In the months that followed, I learned many things about love, loss, anger, despair, patience, and loyalty. I discovered that strong bonds could be created between people from different districts, and that growing up in different places, and circumstances, didn't have to define who you were.

People from town would always have more than I did. They didn't have to register for tesserae, and they didn't have to worry about keeping their siblings warm and fed during the winter. But they hadn't chosen their side of the district any more than I'd picked mine.

I'd always thought the Capitol favored those who had more. In a way they had. Those who were better off had fewer entries inside the reaping bowl. But, their names had been there all the same and, in the end, the firebombs that obliterated our district had rained over town and Seam alike. They'd made no distinctions.

I'll never regret my actions on the night when flames consumed my district. I did the best I could under the circumstances. But I'll always wish that I could have done more to help some of the people who helped my family and me throughout the years.

Being in Thirteen, I'd had enough time to think about them. To remember and acknowledge everything they had given me. Some of them really stood out in my mind, and I berated myself for not recognizing their kindness before.

People like the baker with the warm smile, who would sneak extra bits of day old bread into our trading bags on Sundays; or the butcher, who always turned a blind eye to the fact that we were basically her biggest competitors. And the blacksmith, who always sharpened my hunting knife before even looking at the contents of my game bag.

My hands shook with pent-up shame when I remembered Madge Undersee, the soft-spoken girl who gave me her mother's medicine after I had been nothing but hurtful to her.

The bitter taste of bile filled my mouth whenever I recalled the sense of empowerment I'd felt when I lashed out at her for flaunting her riches in front of us. Guilt and regret washed over me in the days that followed the bombing as I realized that she was nowhere to be found. A small part of me still held on to the hope that she might have been transported out of the district before the bombers got there. Her father was a government official, after all. But a small voice in the back of my head reminded me of how unlikely that was.

Mayor Undersee had been fair, benevolent and soft. President Snow was probably thrilled to be rid of him.

Peeta's blond waves and blue eyes brought them all back into my mind. All these merchants I had scorned and resented, even when they'd been understanding and generous. They had been willing to break the rules every once in a while if it meant helping someone else. And they were all gone. The Capitol had taken them all.

They had also taken Katniss, they had thrown her into two different arenas, and they'd forced her to find her way out of them.

And they had taken Peeta. They had pushed him into a dark room where they had filled his body with bruises, and his mind with lies.

As hard as I tried, and as angry as I was with him for hurting Katniss, I couldn't really fault him for being so hostile and confused. For once, I actually understood him. For once, I could relate.

The boy who had been reaped had been noble and kind. The man who had volunteered had been determined and focused. I had never been able to connect with either one of them.

It wasn't that the concepts of kindness and self-sacrifice were alien to me, but the fact that he insisted on bestowing them among strangers and family alike made my head spin. I had learned to appreciate his selflessness, but I just couldn't see myself following his example.

The bag of bones we had brought back from the Capitol was a different story, though. He was unstable, and he seemed unforgiving. His blue eyes burned with a kind of rage I was intimately acquainted with.

I had never been scared of him before, but the distrustful look I had seen in his eyes in the first days after his rescue, filled me with dread. Even through the hollowness of his cheeks and the paleness of his skin, I could still see traces of the skilled wrestler who had learned to use a knife to protect the woman he loved; of the fighter who had slashed vicious mutts to survive.

I wondered what he'd say if he knew I was watching him. Would he have one of his episodes? Would he try to attack or insult me? Would he call me a mutt, or was that reserved only for Katniss? The thought made me uneasy. I was suddenly grateful for the two-way looking glass that hid me from him as I stood in the deserted hallway.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts; that wasn't why I was there. I was there because I couldn't go to Two without knowing how he was; who he was.

I hadn't spoken to Katniss since she'd left, but I'd been watching her propos. I could tell she wasn't happy. The videos had been heavily edited, but I could still see how sluggish Katniss's movements had become; how vacant her eyes were. Not even spending time with the rebels, and witnessing her impact on the war efforts first hand, had been enough to shake her out of her funk.

Fortunately, President Coin and her collaborators seemed pleased with her performance. And, even if I had my misgivings, the propos were being aired all over the country, and people kept joining the fight. The only thing we were missing was Two's stronghold. And that couldn't last much longer.

I turned my attention back to Peeta. As I looked at him, I wondered if he was the same person who had sat on that sandy beach, and who had been willing to give up his life so that Katniss could have hers. It was too early to tell. By all accounts, the person who sat in front of me was unstable and skeptical.

Why wouldn't he be? I thought. He had every right. They had taken everything away from him; his family, his friends, his home, even his mind. But, the sketches on the wall, the neatness of his room, the steady rhythm of his chest as he consciously controlled his breathing… all these things told me he was trying to conquer his demons. He was fighting against the venom which poisoned his blood, and the web of lies that had been spun around his mind, with the same determination with which he had trained for the Quell.

The next thought hit me like a slap on the face. The odds had never been in Peeta's favor.

He'd been born to one of the cruelest, meanest women in the district. His mother's outbursts and her proclivity for hurting her children had been one of the worst-kept secrets in town. Everyone said that the Mellark boys excelled at wrestling because no opponent could be as fierce as their mother.

His name had only been written on five pieces of paper. Five! Out of thousands! And he'd still been reaped. He had managed to survive one arena only to be thrown into another one. And then, he'd been left behind enemy lines.

He had been proving his strength and his will to live all of his life. Why wouldn't he overcome this?

Then again, this was different. Growing up in a hostile environment, surviving deathtraps, those things had been difficult, for sure, but he'd always had his wits about him. He'd always been able to read and assess a situation, to understand the dangers. That had been one of his greatest strengths, his best weapon. He had used it to garner support from sponsors, to befriend the careers during his first Game, and to rattle the nation before the second.

It was no wonder President Snow had been so intent on messing with his head. Would he be able to recover from this?

The sound of steps approaching brought me back to reality. I turned in their direction and was startled by Delly's radiant smile.

"Hi, Gale," she greeted, "are you here to visit Peeta?" she asked. A hint of hesitation cracked through her cheerful demeanor.

"Hey, Delly," I answered, "no, the doctors don't think he's ready yet."

She exhaled loudly. I could see her smile widen as her shoulders relaxed; I hadn't thought that was possible.

"Yeah, his progress is slow," she said as she moved to stand next to me, keeping her eyes trained on her childhood friend as he stared at the blank piece of paper.

We stood in silence for a bit. Watching Peeta as he seemed to debate whether to use the black charcoal pencil he was holding or the one which rested on the table. For the life of me, I wouldn't have been able to tell the two of them apart.

After a short silent pause Delly asked, "So, I hear you're going to District Two?"

"Uh, yeah. We're leaving tomorrow."

The blond girl nodded a few times before turning around to face me. Her intense blue eyes, so similar to Peeta's, looked straight into mine. Her usually cheerful expression had been replaced by a more somber attitude when she asked, "Are you here to report back to Katniss?"

The seriousness in her tone caught me by surprise, but I held her gaze and answered, "Well, not exactly. I just wanted to see him for myself, you know?"

When she nodded in understanding, I went on, "I keep hearing about his treatment, but I'm not supposed to interact with him… I just wanted to see how he was doing."

"Well, he has good days and bad days," she offered. "He's still very confused, though. The doctors have been trying to determine which memories have been tampered with. So far it looks like the main focus of his captors was to alter his perception of Katniss but, she has been such a big part of his life for so long that he's begun to question most of his memories."

"Is he still dangerous?" I asked.

"Well, he's pretty unstable but, so far, he hasn't tried to attack anyone other than Katniss. And even then, he was just trying to protect himself. He's so confused that he thinks she's out to hurt him. I keep telling him he's wrong. Katniss would never hurt him. She loves him, right?"

Against every instinct in my body, I answered with a curt nod. I didn't feel comfortable discussing Katniss's feelings with a girl I barely knew, especially when those feelings were not the one's I had hoped for. But I knew she was right. Katniss didn't want to hurt Peeta.

After saying goodbye to Delly, I headed back to my room. I still had a lot to process. I didn't know what I was going to tell Katniss once I saw her. I had gone to the hospital looking for answers. I'd been hoping to find something that might cheer her up or that might shake her out of her misery. I had failed, completely.

The Peeta I'd just seen was like one of those defective gadgets Beetee was always trying to fix, except, how were we going to repair a malfunctioning human being?

My mind went back to the kitchen in Victor's Village. I'd been so broken then. My spirit had been shattered, and I'd given up as impotence and defeat took over me. I'd felt the weight of the world on my shoulders, but I had never felt betrayed or abandoned. The Everdeens and my family had been there to push me through those dark days.

Peeta only had Delly and a handful of flustered doctors, who seemed more interested in the hijacking process than on the actual recipient of such treatment. How was he ever going to get better?

I realized I'd been trapped in my memories and I sighed. I would never forget how my weakness had been rewarded with tenderness and affection. Katniss definitely had a soft spot for vulnerability.

I shook my head in an attempt to clear it. I really didn't have time to reminisce.

"In any case," I told myself, "getting whipped didn't win me her heart."

I had never wanted Katniss to love me out of pity, obligation or guilt. If that was the only way to get her attention, I'd learn to do without.

It wasn't like any of that mattered anyway. When it came to being damaged, the competition had blown me right out the park. I would never be as broken as Peeta Mellark was.

XXXXX

The first time I saw Two, it was from the sky. Our hovercraft glided swiftly above the mountain range giving us an unobstructed view of the district.

I gasped in surprise when the massive quarry wich housed the country's most important military complex appeared out of thin air. The soft autumn sun bathed the mountain and its surroundings making them glow. The yellow light reminded me of the golden breastplates which usually adorned the career tributes' chests.

After going through the official introductions, I asked to be pointed in Katniss's direction. According to the officer in charge, the Mockingjay's residence was constantly changing. "For her own protection," he said.

After confirming that I had the proper clearance to possess such valuable information, I was taken to Katniss's lodgings.

It was late afternoon by the time I reached the village where she was staying. I found her sitting on a log, absorbed in the arduous task of plucking a goose. About a dozen more birds lay on a pile by her feet.

The image was so familiar that my heart ached with longing. Without a word, I sat by her side. I picked up a bird and began to clean it. Silence danced comfortably between us and I found myself wishing we could be back in Twelve, enjoying the spoils of a productive hunt.

My mouth began to water as I thought about the delicious goose meat which I held in my hands. After all those months eating in Thirteen, I was ready for a decent meal.

"Any chance we'll get to eat these?" I asked.

Our conversation flowed easily, the weeks we'd spent apart had softened the edges of our strained relationship.

We discussed the food distribution around camp and the dangers associated with housing the Mockingjay before falling silent once again. After a short pause, I decided to tell her what had been eating away at me since my visit to the hospital.

"I saw Peeta yesterday. Through the glass," I said.

Without even glancing in my direction she asked, "What did you think?"

"Something selfish."

"That you don't have to be jealous of him anymore?"

The sadness in her tone surprised me a bit. I turned around to face her, but she kept her eyes trained on the ground. I took a deep breath and tried to speak as calmly as possible.

"No, just the opposite," I said. "I thought... I'll never compete with that, no matter how much pain I'm in. I don't stand a chance if he doesn't get better. You'll never be able to let him go. You'll always feel wrong about being with me."

I thought my heart would break when she said she'd always felt bad about kissing Peeta because of me. I knew it wasn't true and, if it were, it wouldn't have been because she was in love with me, but because she felt she owed me something.

When I told her I didn't believe her, she said, "it is true. But so is what you said about Peeta."

My disbelieving grunt put an end to the conversation. I didn't want to play that game anymore.

I'd grown tired of waiting for her to tell me how she felt for me. I wasn't expecting poetry or elaborate love declarations. But I did want someone who could admit she cared about me without feeling like she needed to include Peeta Mellark –or anyone else for that matter– into the conversation.

We were walking through the woods, gathering kindling for the evening fire when she hugged me. She wrapped her small arms around my rib cage and squeezed so tightly I thought she was going to break.

It wasn't the first time we'd hugged, but I had never been close enough to feel her heartbeat pounding directly against my chest. It made me lightheaded.

I looked down at her, and my eyes landed on the faded bruises on her neck. A wave of sorrow and tenderness washed over me, and I leaned down to gently brush my lips over the purple marks.

I slowly moved upwards, leaving a trail of tender kisses on my way to her mouth. I felt her body going limp in my arms. Her lips latched on to mine and followed my lead. It was almost like she was mimicking my every move like she'd stopped thinking altogether and was allowing her body to simply follow the motions.

After a few seconds, I stopped and pulled away. Reflexively her lips followed mine. I placed a hand under her chin, to keep her from pressing against me, and said her name.

She straightened up slightly, and I could see confusion clouding her eyes. She brought a hand up to the scar on her temple.

I watched her eyes as they regained their focus. Once I was certain she was aware of what was happening, I decided to try again.

"Now, kiss me," I instructed.

She stood still, eyes wide open, as I leaned down and kissed her again. I barely pressed my lips against hers, but I could feel her bewildered stare watching my every move, so I pulled away once more.

I searched her face and realized she was puzzled and disoriented. Hardly the emotions you want to see reflected on the girl you're kissing.

"What's going on in your head?" I asked.

"I don't know," she admitted in a soft whisper.

"Then it's like kissing someone who's drunk. It doesn't count," I answered, trying to laugh and failing miserably.

"How do you know?" she asked as a faint blush colored her cheeks. "Have you ever kissed someone who's drunk?"

"No," I answered as I shook my head. "But it's not hard to imagine."

The truth was that I'd had my fair share of kissing back in Twelve. I'd never mentioned it before, but I didn't think it was a secret. After all, I knew girls liked to talk, and I knew what they said about me when they thought I wasn't listening.

Besides, I had never considered Katniss romantically when we first met. She had been so small, she'd looked so young, and, if I was perfectly honest, she'd been a bit of a pain. Constantly negotiating and fighting for every scrap, never letting go of a single debt, always making sure Prim got the best of everything she could offer. It was sweet, but it got on my nerves sometimes.

Much to my surprise, the conversation didn't end there. She kept asking questions! She wanted to know whether I'd kissed other girls, where, who, how many…

I looked at her and realized she seemed genuinely interested, so I decided to be honest. It wasn't like it mattered at that point, the where or the who. Most of the girls I'd kissed were dead; the places where I had once held them had gone up in flames. So I told her about the back of the school, the slagheap…

Eventually, she asked, "So when did I become so special? When they carted me off to the Capitol?"

"No," I answered, "about six months before that."

Her eyes lit up as she recalled that cold winter day. We had been trading our haul at the Hob when we ran into Darius. My mouth went dry as I thought about his flirtatious remarks. I still couldn't believe that the young man who had shamelessly made eyes at Katniss had been turned into an avox. I still held on to the hope that I might be able to thank him one day. For helping me see that the scrawny girl who drove me crazy with annoyance had become the woman who'd make me mad with want; and, most importantly, for trying to protect me from Thread's whip.

Katniss's eyes widened in disbelief as I explained that Darius's lurid comments had been what had made me realize she was no longer a child but the woman I wanted to share my life with.

"Darius was joking around," she said.

"Probably. Although you'd be the last to figure out if he wasn't," I replied.

As I walked back to my living quarters, I analyzed everything that had happened that afternoon. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel the warmth of Katniss's lips on mine.

A cold shiver ran down my spine as I reminded myself that she had just been trying to drown her sorrow in someone else's arms. I had never seen her that lonely and desperate before. Even if spending time outside of Thirteen had been beneficial for her body, her soul was obviously shattered. She was starved for affection. I wouldn't forget the hurt and confusion I saw on her face when I pushed her away.

That's when I had known, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Katniss Everdeen would never kiss me again.

The truth was that our relationship had been going through some rough times. We didn't seem to agree on anything, and I could feel her constantly questioning my loyalties. I knew she'd never felt comfortable in Thirteen. She'd only seen my will to adapt to our new home as a betrayal.

The more I thought about it, the more I understood that all she truly needed at the time was a friend. Not a suitor or a colleague, but someone who would have her back, someone she could rely on, someone she could trust. I knew I hadn't been that person to her lately. But I knew I could change. I wanted to do that for her.

She might not have been ready to admit what her feelings for Peeta were, but I was done playing around. Too much had happened between us not to know what our roles were. I couldn't deceive myself any longer.

I didn't know whether she'd end up with Peeta or not. At that point, his recovery from the hijacking seemed unlikely. And, even if he did recover, they might not end up together. After all, it wasn't like she had to be with one of us.

She had always said she never wanted to get married, but I hadn't believed her. I'd always thought she'd grow up and change her mind. I had assumed I'd be the one to win her over. Well, clearly, that hadn't been the case. And, after everything she had been through, I wouldn't blame her if she decided to be on her own.

While Peeta's attack had shocked me, it had also given me the clarity I'd been lacking. President Snow's Capitol had shown me there was no limit to what it was willing to do to keep us under its thumb. For generations, we had been forced into slavery by hunger and fear. We had been made to watch our loved ones as they were paraded, ridiculed and slaughtered for someone else's enjoyment. I had seen an entire district turn to ashes just because a few of its natives had dared to stand up against our oppressor.

My resolve had strengthened with every blow the Capitol had delivered. The close surveillance, the oppressive rules, the famine, the lack of safety measures in our workplaces, the total indifference and disregard for our well being and our most basic needs, the impotence and helplessness they'd made us feel. We couldn't forget. We wouldn't forget. We would show them what their treatment of us had bought. They had shown their hand. They had proven, time and again, that they were willing to do anything, to break anyone, to get their message across. We had been nothing but pawns in their hands and they had played long enough. Our time had come.

In the end, it all came down to the same thing: The Capitol had taken too much away from me and mine. It was time they started paying back for all the suffering they'd caused. I would stop at nothing to ensure the fall of the nut.

XXXXX

**AN:** I love kudos and comments as much as I love Peeta's shy smile. You always make my day when you share them with me. Thanks!

You can also find me on tumblr. I'm javistg over there, come and say hi!


	7. Estranged

**CHAPTER 7. Estranged**

There we were, once again, facing off against each other. Katniss' steely eyes bore into mine as she tried to remind me of the fact that the Nut was, essentially, an old mine. She clearly thought that bringing up our fathers, and the explosion which had killed them was going to make me change my mind.

She was mistaken.

If anything, all she did was remind me of the fact that, unlike my father, these people had been given a choice.

The explosion which had claimed my dad's life had been a result of the Capitol's neglect. Nothing had been gained by those miners' deaths. But this was completely different.

The Nut had been under siege for weeks. The people inside the military complex had been given every possible opportunity to surrender. But they still defied us. They were forcing our hand by playing this waiting game. They were hoping our resources would run out, and we'd have to leave them alone. Did they think we'd just grow tired and go? Well, I wasn't going anywhere.

So there we were, at a standstill. I could feel every pair of eyes in that room looking at me. They were analyzing me, judging me.

I knew District Two wasn't the Capitol. But, in my eyes, they were just as bad. They had been President Snow's lapdog for years, always eager to please their master.

Sure, they'd been forced to send their kids into the arenas, just like any other district. But they'd only sent those who had been trained. The careers had always been the oldest, biggest, meanest tributes. They had been arrogant and cruel, just like the Peacekeepers who had trained them. They'd hardly ever lost. Only the most resourceful and resilient of tributes had managed to defeat them. I felt no sympathy for them, or for anyone else in that district.

Knowing Peacekeepers came from District Two did nothing to appease me. If anything, the notion made my stomach turn.

Most peacekeepers had been like Thread, ruthless and cruel. They had asserted their power by threatening and hurting us. The government was always saying that they were there to protect us. But who had protected us from them? Who had stopped them from pointing their guns at us, from locking us up or from whipping us senseless? Who had shielded us from their insults and abuse? No one. That was who.

Back in our district, head Peacekeeper Cray had been more lenient, but he'd also been incredibly corrupt. Charged with the task of watching over the smallest and poorest district in the country, Cray had spent his time trading at the Hob. Drinking and preying on poor desperate girls who gave themselves over to him for a bit of bread or a couple of coins. Always thinking about his pleasure and his wellbeing and never about the district and its needs. He had been a good customer –probably the best if I was honest– always willing to pay for the fattest turkeys and the biggest fish. But he had been a negligent, lecherous man who had used his position to help himself without ever thinking about anyone else.

The truth was that this standstill was turning out to be very costly. If the District two loyalists had joined the rebellion sooner, we wouldn't have lost as many lives. But, even when presented with the opportunity to join the fight, they had remained loyal to the government that had been squeezing the life out of almost every other district in the country. They'd made their choice; the time had come for them to suffer the consequences.

I knew there were others, those precious few like Darius or Commander Lyme –who looked like she was ready to skewer me with her sword– who had decided to fight against the system. Darius had already paid dearly for his actions. The longer the war went on, the longer it would take for him to recover his freedom. As for Lyme and her spies, my heart went out to them, but they must have known what the risks were when they'd joined the rebellion. I knew I did.

The attack on the Nut was authorized a few hours later. After much debate, it was decided that one of the tunnels would be left untouched so that the loyalists might be able to evacuate. This measure seemed to mollify Katniss and those who had thought my plan was too extreme. I still didn't see why we should show mercy to those who had never shown me any.

We stood on the roof of the Justice Building, and we watched as hovercraft dropped a round of explosives on top of the fortified mountain. After a couple of rounds, the mountainsides began their precipitous descent into the ground. Avalanches of rock and mud wiped away everything in their path. The Nut had been conquered.

The afternoon dragged on. Katniss sulked. I could see her huddled up against the columns of the Justice Building, talking into the earpiece which connected her to Haymitch back in Thirteen. I wondered if I should talk to her, but I knew she was still mad at me. I decided to give her some space instead. Besides, the rebel forces were getting ready for battle, and I didn't want to be left behind.

It was well after midnight when Katniss came out of her hiding place. The spotlight shone on her, and her voice boomed across the partially demolished town square. She had barely begun her speech when a couple of trains came barreling out of the open tunnel, spilling its contents into the train station.

A young man staggered out of the station. He was wounded, disoriented and heavily armed. He tripped down, falling on his face.

Katniss rushed to his side. She was obviously trying to help him, but he must have misread her intentions because he dragged himself up on one knee and aimed his gun directly at her head.

The world stood still. I couldn't even breathe. My heart pounded madly inside my chest. I stood frozen on my spot as my mind ran wild, trying to come up with a solution. Nothing was good enough. He was too close to her. One false move and a bullet would pierce my friend's skull.

"Give me one reason I shouldn't shoot you," he said. The microphone attached to the Mockingjay's suit spilled his voice over the silent square.

My heart skipped a beat when Katniss answered, "I can't."

Time dragged on, Katniss' voice filled the square. I could see the man's face soften as she spoke.

She talked about the Capitol and how they had turned us into a nation of slaves. Too consumed with worry and fear to think for ourselves. She talked about how they'd manipulated us into thinking that our fellow citizens were our enemies.

Something stirred within me as I remembered her, right after her last interview, dressed as a bird and holding hands with 23 other people. They'd made a show of unity that night, 12 districts joined as one. It hadn't lasted long, though, once the Quarter Quell began the careers had started killing tributes left and right.

"These people," she said, indicating the wounded bodies on the square, "are not your enemy!"

Just as the injured man dropped his gun, a bullet flew through the air. The Mockingjay fell, wounded, to the ground.

XXXXX

I was back in District Thirteen. My footsteps echoed through the empty hallways which led into the hospital.

I couldn't believe I was back. It seemed like every trip outside Thirteen ended up with Katniss being hospitalized. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed like she was doing it on purpose. She'd been careless, and she'd taken unnecessary risks.

An uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that her disregard for her safety was somehow connected to Peeta.

She was already up by the time I reached her room. I was surprised to find Johanna Mason sitting by her side. Katniss' morphling drip was neatly hooked into the socket on the crook of her arm.

I hadn't seen the older victor since her rescue. Her skin was sallow, and her eyes were dull. But she had gained some weight, and the bruises, which had once covered her face and arms, were almost gone.

Johanna returned the morphling drip back to its intended patient as soon as I walked into the room.

"Your cousin's not afraid of me," she mock whispered into Katniss's ear before heading for the door.

She reached the doorway, her foggy eyes found mine and stayed there for a moment. She nudged my leg with her hip. "Are you, gorgeous?" she asked right before leaving the room for good.

My whole body tensed at the contact.

Her amused laughter bounced off the gray hospital walls as she walked away from the room.

I shook my head. How could that small woman be so frightening?

I turned my attention back to Katniss. She was still lying in bed. She looked tired, but she tried to return my smile when I admitted to being terrified of the petite woman who had just left the room.

Eventually, our conversation veered off towards the incident on the Nut. The fact that Katniss seemed to be the only person who thought it was a mistake to blow up the military compound like we did made my blood boil.

She didn't care about the fact that the strategy had been sound and effective. She kept trying to defend our enemies. She wasn't willing to admit that the loyalists who had been hiding inside the Nut had been the same ones who had sent the hover planes which bombarded the hospital in District Eight.

How could she possibly believe that targeting the Nut was the same as sending innocent children off to kill each other inside an arena?

We had neutralized a real threat. We hadn't tried to enforce our rule by terrorizing generations of harmless citizens.

I knew she was running out of arguments when she decided to throw her two trips to the arena at my face.

A chill ran down my spine as she trained her steely eyes on mine. I decided to let the matter drop. If I had learned anything over the last months, it was that, when it came to war and its ways, our points of view were painfully different.

XXXXX

I stood in front of the mirror. My uniform had been perfectly ironed, and my hair had been carefully styled. I looked like one of those Capitol representatives who toured the districts sometimes. I hated it.

Over the last few days, District Thirteen had been a flurry of activity. Plutarch and his team had decided to turn Finnick and Annie's wedding into a propo.

The whole project had clearly made President Coin uneasy. The district's leader wasn't too fond of bending the rules. Even when Plutarch had told her time and again that an inspirational propo of this kind was just what her image needed, she seemed reluctant to let go.

Eventually, the Capitol crew took over, and Fulvia and the production team handed out assignments and instructed us on what our positions and roles would be during the ceremony.

I had been about to leave the Command Center one afternoon when Plutarch waved me over to the side. The conspiratorial glint in his eyes made my stomach clench in anxiety.

"My dear soldier, Hawthorne," he began. "You have become quite popular among the rebels, you know?"

I shook my head. Ever since the Nut's destruction, I had been invited to more strategy meetings, and President Coin had asked for my opinion on certain matters. But, as far as I knew, people outside District Thirteen didn't know who I was.

The former game maker must have sensed my hesitation because he rushed to explain,

"Your good looks, your connection to the Mockingjay, and your performance in District Two have turned you into quite the celebrity, my boy."

"They have?" I asked, disbelief tinting my words.

"Yes, of course! You have figured prominently in most of the propos we've aired. The next one won't be an exception," he added enthusiastically.

So there I was, a couple of days later, completely prepped and poised to spend the next few hours standing in the area reserved for distinguished guests.

President Coin, Commander Boggs, Plutarch, and most of the President's advisors, stood next to me as Finnick and Annie made their way towards the makeshift altar where they would exchange their wedding vows.

Dalton began the speech he had prepared for the occasion, and I found my eyes drifting towards the area which had been assigned for the victors.

Haymitch and Johanna stood next to each other. I could sense their amusement as they gossiped in hushed voices and sent furtive glances across the room.

Katniss was next to them. She was wearing an orange frock patterned with autumn leaves which had probably been collected from her house in the Victor's Village. It looked like something Cinna would have designed for her Victory Tour.

Her eyes were trained on the happy couple, and I was surprised to discover a wistful smile dancing on her lips.

Beetee sat in his wheelchair on the other side of the reserved section. As usual, he seemed more interested in the placement of the cameras and microphones around the hall than in the actual ceremony.

Vows were exchanged. Lips were touched with salt water, and kisses were shared. An ancient wedding song was sung. The two remaining victors from District Four were finally married.

People cheered and toasted with apple cider. The sound of a fiddle filled the air, and I felt my spirits lift. It had been such a long time since I'd heard anything like that, light and joyful, that I felt like singing.

In no time at all people around me began to clap and sway to the music. The simple melody brought back memories of balmy summer days and cloudless starry nights.

I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I turned to find Greasy Sae standing next to me, a sly smile danced on her lips.

"Care to dance?" I asked.

The words had hardly left my lips when Sae grabbed my hand and tugged on it, quickly leading me to the center of the floor where we stood facing each other.

After a few seconds, people began pouring in to join us. Once we'd been assembled into two lines, we started dancing. More and more people kept joining in as we moved around the room, forming a large circle that kept on spinning and expanding.

I was standing in the center of the circle. I'd been twirling Sae around as I showed a few basic steps to some of Thirteen's natives when I noticed that Katniss and Prim had joined us on the dance floor

Katniss looked a bit flushed from the effort of jumping and twirling, but anyone could see how truly happy she was as she wrapped her arms around her sister and guided her towards the ever expanding circle of dancers.

We had been dancing for a while when Plutarch stepped onto the dais which had been set up for the wedding ceremony.

The fiddler finished the tune he'd been playing, and the whole room went quiet. The former game maker cleared his throat and addressed the audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry to interrupt the festivities, but this is still a wedding, and no wedding would be complete without a cake. So, without further ado, I give you Mr. and Mrs. Odair's wedding cake."

The lights were dimmed. I heard a soft squeaking sound coming from the corridor right outside the ballroom.

A few seconds later a huge cake was wheeled through the doorway. The silence in the room was replaced with the guest's surprised gasps. Not only was the cake enormous but it was beautifully decorated as well.

The table was set in the center of the room. Finnick and his bride moved towards the exuberant pastry but made no move to cut into it.

Everyone in attendance fluttered about the colorful confection, carefully dancing around it, trying to get a closer look at the sugary waves and colorful creatures made out of icing. I stepped closer to get a better look.

My eyes landed on the frosted flowers which sat delicately at the base of the cake, and I stopped breathing.

I knew those flowers. I had seen them many times; displayed on the windows of my district's bakery, and on the small almond cookies Mrs. Everdeen gave me every time I went for a check-up on Victor's Village.

One look in Katniss's direction and I knew she had recognized them as well. How could she not?

I followed her motions as she examined the exquisite pastry.

She moved around the cake taking in every little detail, from the small sailboat which seemed to rock on the smooth sugary waves to the garlands of sea flowers that matched the color of Annie's dress.

She kept her eyes trained on the cake, almost afraid to blink; as if she thought it might disappear if she let it out of her sight. A small smile settled on her lips.

For the first time in months, she seemed happy, hopeful, even. Eventually, she turned to Finnick, smiled brightly at him and nodded once.

Once Katniss had backed away from the cake, the bride and groom went on to cut slices for everyone in the room.

XXXXX

I had just come out of a strategy meeting with Commander Boggs and Beetee when I ran into Katniss and Johanna. It was almost lunchtime, so I decided to join them in the dining hall.

After getting a good serving of what Greasy Sae proudly advertised as 'real beef stew,' we decided to join Delly, Annie, and Finnick at their table.

We had been enjoying our meal, laughing at something Finnick was saying, when Peeta walked into the room. He approached our group. Two guards stood behind him as he awkwardly asked for permission to sit at our table.

It was the first time we had faced each other since his rescue. Long gone was the man who had shaken my hand by the end of our last training session before the Quarter Quell.

I felt my body tense as I recalled how his eyes had settled on mine as he'd acknowledged, with a curt nod, that we were probably exchanging our last goodbye.

He hadn't been one to shy away from the harsh reality that awaited him. But all the planning and plotting in the world couldn't have prepared him for what had been about to happen.

The man who sat in front of me looked weary and was clearly on edge. As far as I knew, this was the first time he'd been allowed to join the general population. The doctors weren't taking any unnecessary risks, though. His guards kept a watchful eye on him.

Peeta's eyes were trained on Katniss as he ate.

Her body seemed to turn to stone next to me. Her discomfort was so great that I could almost touch her anxiety.

Johanna was the only one who addressed Peeta directly. I was shocked by the open and careless way in which she spoke to him. But when their conversation veered towards their shared experience in the Capitol I understood.

Those two had forged a bond that went beyond anything that could be expressed with words. They had been pushed into the deepest and darkest corners. There was no judgment between them; there was no shame. Unfortunately, that bond didn't seem to include anyone else.

Peeta's cutting remarks and cold demeanor ended up breaking our little reunion. But amid biting observations and reproachful accusations, I still found a spark of the Peeta I once knew looking back at me.

Katniss, of course, was too shocked to see past the tone of his voice and the harshness of his words. But I knew better, under that icy exterior, I found a very familiar type of hurt.

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, Peeta -the Peeta who cared about Katniss- was still there.

He was angry and wounded. He evidently felt betrayed, and he was still struggling to understand what had happened to him. In his eyes, he had been left to rot while everyone else had moved on with their lives.

He had been willing to exchange his life for Katniss' and she had repaid his devotion with avoidance and neglect. Not only that, as far as he could tell, Katniss had given him up to be with me. Nothing was further from the truth, of course, but there was no way for him to know that.

But I could tell, from the way he carefully considered her every reaction, that he still cared about her. She was still important to him.

He evidently resented the fact that he was still being manipulated into a pretend relationship. He wasn't willing to play along anymore, not that he had a choice in the matter.

I knew he had been jealous and resentful of me in the past, but he had done his best to move past it. He'd always been cordial and polite, but that had been before the hijacking. He couldn't see things clearly anymore, and he was having a hard time keeping his emotions in check.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized I honestly couldn't blame him for lashing out at her. Hadn't I done the same thing when she came back from her Victory Tour? I had judged her for trying to protect her district partner, for seemingly choosing him over me.

I had felt entitled to demand her full attention and had expected undivided loyalty from her, and I hadn't sacrificed nearly as much as he had. He had lost everything, his family, his home, the trust of the girl he loved and most of his friends. He was entitled to his bitterness and anger. He had earned the right to think about himself.

Katniss' reaction to his words saddened me, though.

The despair I saw in her eyes as I left her compartment that night worried me. She had already been through a lot. She seemed lost, and she had begun to question her self-worth.

I tried to cheer her up. I told her that Peeta was wrong, that he wasn't seeing her clearly, that he was still confused. But I don't think she heard me. I could tell that the only thing pushing her forward was her determination to reach the Capitol. She had become obsessed with Snow, and I knew she was planning to track him down and make him pay for what he'd done to her; for what he'd done to Peeta.

I left the Everdeens' compartment with a heavy heart. President Coin had been reasonably happy with Katniss's performance lately. She had already assembled the sharp shooter's squad and had allowed Plutarch to develop a new angle for the upcoming propos. But she wasn't going to be pleased when she discovered that her number one attraction, the popular Mockingjay, had private, selfish reasons for following along with the plan.

What would happen to Katniss once her true intentions were revealed? I didn't think President Coin would be very accommodating.

Katniss' actions had placed her in the crosshairs of yet another president. Whatever influence I had within the rebel government would be useless if President Coin felt betrayed. I wouldn't be able to save Katniss if she pushed Coin over the edge.

There was only one thing left for me to do. I had to stay by Katniss' side. I would do my best to protect her, even if it were the last thing I did.

XXXXX

Our first days in the Capitol were pretty uneventful. Most of our time was spent walking around secured areas acting like we were taking over the city. Between our bad acting and the lack of real action we encountered, I wondered whether the propos we were filming would actually convince anyone of our advances on the city.

On the fourth day, the youngest Leeg sister hit a mislabeled pod and died. Her replacement arrived promptly on the next train.

A cold chill ran down my spine when I saw Peeta Mellark walking towards us. His gun swung from the strap over his shoulder with every step he took.

Katniss' reaction to Peeta's arrival took me by surprise. I hadn't expected her to be happy about this new development. I knew she was still upset, and she hadn't fully recovered from her last encounters with her fellow victor. But her anxiety seemed more rooted in the message President Coin was sending than in Peeta's actual presence among our squad. I worried about her being paranoid, but a part of me knew she had every reason to be.

As the day turned into night, Commander Jackson came up with a plan for our night shifts. Once a suitable timetable was agreed upon, Boggs announced that Peeta would be sleeping outside, where everyone could see him.

It was well after midnight. I was half asleep; the even breaths of people sleeping next to me lulled me back into slumber. I was about to doze off when Peeta's hushed whisper brought me out of my sleepy haze.

"These last years must have been exhausting for you," he said, "trying to decide whether to kill me or not. Back and forth. Back and forth."

The stillness of the night carried Katniss' soft reply. I could tell she was struggling to find the right words. A small smile came to my lips when she said she'd always been her ally.

After a few more exchanges Peeta admitted he didn't know what was real and what wasn't. The thought made my stomach drop.

Suddenly, Finnick's voice broke the silence."Then you should ask, Peeta," he said, "that's what Annie does."

"Ask who," Peeta countered. "Who can I trust?"

Jackson's answer startled me. "Well, us for starters. We are your squad."

The air around us became lighter once Peeta acknowledged he wasn't surrounded by adversaries or guards but by people who valued and respected him. He seemed surprised to hear people in District Thirteen felt indebted to him and that they thought his warning had saved their lives.

Anger flared inside my chest as I thought no one had actually thanked him for his actions before then. President Coin had wasted no time acknowledging what he'd done. I could still hear her clear, authoritative voice booming from the loudspeakers inside our underground fortress. Why had no one bothered to thank him properly until then?

Even if he wasn't as easy going as he'd once been, he deserved to know what his sacrifice and bravery had bought.

Katniss' hushed voice reached the center of our little camp once more. I held my breath as she listed some of the things she knew about him.

The crisp early morning air carried words filled with sadness and longing. Even though I couldn't see her face, I was certain she was about to start crying. She sounded so fragile and vulnerable that I thought she was about to break.

For a split second, I feared Peeta's comeback. Was he going to attack or question her in any way? To his credit, he did nothing of the sort. He stayed in his spot, quietly playing with that little rope of his, tying and untying endless knots.

Silence settled over our camp once more. I took a deep breath and tried to get back to sleep, but the victor's conversation kept playing inside my head.

My mouth had gone dry when I'd heard all the things she knew about him. Some of them were superficial, everyone in Panem knew Peeta painted and baked. But I wondered how she knew about his preference for open windows and double-knotted shoelaces. There was something about those bits of information that seemed very intimate. They were the kinds of things a very close friend or girlfriend would know. I had known Katniss for years, and we had shared a lot. But I realized that, if she had asked, I wouldn't have known whether she closed her windows at night or if she liked sugar in her tea. I certainly wouldn't have known what her favorite color was.

XXXXX

"You used to tap on the windowpane whenever you came to trade. Three taps, every time. Real?" Peeta asked.

I nodded, "Real. That was your father's idea. He told me I should always tap three times and wait for him to open the back door. He didn't want his wife to find out about our… arrangement."

Peeta nodded silently and kept his eyes trained on the piece of rope he'd been holding. Suddenly, he straightened the string and set it on his knees. In one surprisingly swift motion, he twisted the length of rope creating a small loop in the middle. I immediately recognized the shape as one the basic twists I had tried to teach him back when we'd been training for the Quarter Quell.

"If I pull on this side," he said, pointing to the left end of the rope," and attach the other end to a fixed object I get a basic twist loop trap. I can use this to catch a small rabbit."

I nodded.

"You taught me that," he said. It wasn't a question so I kept quiet. After a moment, he went on. "You trained me for the Quarter Quell. Real?"

"Real."

"Why?"

"Because you asked me to."

His eyes narrowed as he analyzed my answer. I could tell by the look on his face that he needed more, I sighed and went on, "You needed help. You were trying to keep Katniss alive, so I helped you."

"Ah," he said, a humorless chuckle escaped his throat, "Katniss. It's always about her, isn't it?"

He turned around to face me, his blue eyes trained directly on mine. I was surprised by how tired, sad and frustrated he looked. The anger and resentment I had grown used to were nowhere to be found. He'd gotten better, I realized. He hadn't caused any trouble since he'd shown up in the Capitol and, even when Katniss had attacked him, he'd remained calm. The old Peeta, the one who had been charming and easy-going, had probably disappeared for good, but this version of him was quite civil. His intentions were clear. He wasn't trying to hurt or insult anyone. He was honestly trying to piece his memories back together.

I didn't know what else to say, so I looked away and waited for him to continue.

His next question caught me by surprise. "Why did you volunteer?"

"Huh?"

"To rescue me," he clarified. "Why did you volunteer to rescue me from the Capitol?"

"Well, um, I guess... I owed it to you."

"You owed it to me," he said with a snigger. "How does that work exactly?"

"It's very simple," I explained, "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."

He turned to look at the length of rope once more. I could almost hear the cogs inside his head working desperately as he tried to piece this information back together.

"You saved my life," I said.

His head shot up, and he turned to face me. His eyes were wide and disbelieving.

"You, Haymitch, and Katniss," I added, speaking slowly, trying to keep my ideas as simple and straightforward as possible. "You all stood up for me. Thread would have killed me if you hadn't intervened."

Suddenly, he gasped for air, held his breath and kept still. After a few seconds, he started chuckling and shaking his head.

"Of course I intervened!" he said waving his hands in frustration, "What else was I supposed to do, let him beat you to death?"

He covered his face with his hands. His shoulders shook as he kept on laughing quietly, almost to himself. Eventually, his laughter subsided, and he dropped his hands to his lap.

"Why do I feel like I've had this conversation before," he mumbled.

"Because you have."

"You and I have had this conversation before?" he asked. Confusion and disbelief laced his words.

"No," I reassured him. "No, we've never talked about this before. But, I… I overheard you once. You were talking to Katniss. It was right after my whipping. I was staying in her house…"

"We were in the study," he said, cutting me off. "She was upset. She said I shouldn't have risked my life like that. She said we needed to be more careful."

"Real."

He turned to face me once more; resignation and exhaustion etched all over his face.

"Thanks for rescuing me," he said.

"Sure," I nodded, "Thanks for standing up for me."

"Sure."

XXXXX

We were laughing. My shoulders shook, and my belly ached from the effort of keeping my chuckles under control. My cheeks were red and warm with mirth, and my vision had become blurred with happy tears that threatened to spill out at any moment.

I could see my levity reflected on Boggs's expression.

"Pull it together Four-Five-One," he instructed as he tried to keep a straight face.

One false move, that's all it took.

Boggs's left foot landed on an orange paving stone. A bomb was triggered. Our commander's legs were blown off.

All hell broke loose.

I looked around me. My chest was heaving from the effort of closing all the doors and blocking all the cracks on the walls and windows. In a matter of minutes, we had lost two of our squad members from Thirteen. I could still see their gruesome, bloody deaths replaying on a loop behind my eyelids.

The sound of Peeta's feet slamming desperately against the closet door resonated on the walls of our hiding place. Jackson was facing off against Katniss, who refused to give back the Holo Boggs had placed in her hands shortly before dying. The tension in the air was palpable. We were all shocked, wary, stressed.

After a few minutes, Peeta's kicks stopped. The tension in the air began to subside.

I almost laughed out loud when Katniss explained that President Coin herself had appointed her to kill Snow. It was such an evident lie. But it didn't matter; in the end, we all wanted the same thing. And it was easier to pretend that our mission had been officially sanctioned than to admit that we were going rogue.

The truth was that I had known about Katniss' intentions for a long time. Clearly, I hadn't been the only one.

In the days that followed, we moved stealthily along the back streets of the Capitol. Every stride brought us one step closer to the City Circle and President Snow's mansion.

Each day brought a new horror into our lives. In order to survive we had to break into apartments, kill bystanders and run through dark, damp sewers.

Bloodthirsty reptilian mutts which had been designed to track us down chased after us, forcing us to run and leave some of our allies behind. For the first time, I truly got a glimpse of what an arena must have been like, dangers hidden at every turn, murderous voices whispering your name, chasing after your blood.

I'll never forget Finnick's sacrifice or Peeta's determination as we rushed along slippery corridors and pushed Katniss towards the light at the end of the tunnel. Being there, on the outer side of the manhole, while Finnick, Jackson, and what remained of Thirteen's natives were consumed by flames, made me realize how fearless these people were. I was filled with pride at the thought that I might be one of them and with sorrow at their loss.

By the time we reached Tigris's basement we were broken and crushed. Losing most of our squad members to the sewer mutts affected each one in a different way. Pollux mourned silently for his brother while Cressida focused all of her energy on planning our next move. She kept talking to Tigris and trying to come up with ideas on how to reach the underground connections she still had within the Capitol's walls.

Peeta withdrew into himself and Katniss used the time to grieve over the death of the victor who had been her friend and ally, and to blame herself for all the losses we had accumulated along the way.

All I could do was sit in a corner and watch them. The tributes from my district, the Capitol reporter turned rebel and the freed slave who had lost his brother inside the sewers which had once held him prisoner. I felt so inadequate compared to them.

Sure, I had grown up in a cruel world where resources had been incredibly scarce. I had lost my father at a young age, and I had been forced to provide for my family, but so had Katniss.

I had been stripped of all hopes for the future and thrown to work in the deepest mines, but how could that compare with being permanently stuck inside those sewage canals for five years!

I had been beaten to within an inch of my life, but Peeta had been beaten too. He'd also been bound and gagged, forced to watch while his captors delighted in torturing people he knew. Then he'd been poisoned, and turned into a weapon bent on destroying the one thing he'd been trying to protect.

I still didn't know what Cressida's story was. But something told me she had done more than bitch and moan on the other side of a fence, with no one other than the mockingjays to hear her rants. And still, there they were, still trying to come up with a solution, trying to find peace, refusing to give up hope.

The small, stifling place gave us a brief respite from all the horrors which surrounded us. But we all knew it couldn't last for long. Once the Capitol figured out we hadn't been killed, they'd start hunting us down all over again. We knew District Thirteen had given up on us. Cressida had sent word of our situation through her network of spies, but no one had answered back.

We were on our own. We couldn't risk being caught, and we couldn't endanger Tigris any more than we already had.

Coming up with a plan was simple enough and, surprisingly, Peeta was not only understanding but quite helpful.

Katniss' reluctance to include him in our next course of action baffled me. I wondered why she kept pushing for him to stay hidden. But as soon as he mentioned using himself as a diversion in the event of an emergency, I understood.

The words had hardly left his lips when her back stiffened, and her eyes widened in alarm. She was scared. She was trying to keep him safe.

I sympathized, but I knew Peeta was right, we'd run out of time and out of options. The only protection we could offer him, under those circumstances, was a quick way out in case of capture. So I did the only thing I could. I pulled the small nightlock pill I kept hidden in my suit and gave it to him.

His hand closed into a tight fist as soon as the purple tablet touched his palm. I was suddenly reminded of the lone berry he'd held in his hand after accidentally killing the red-headed tribute.

Nightlock berries. He'd held a handful of them once before. I hadn't forgotten how he'd raised his hand towards the cameras, making sure everyone saw the little round fruit sitting on his outstretched palm. He hadn't been expecting to make it out of that arena alive. Was he planning to survive this new adventure, I wondered. Or was he only looking for an easy way out? I couldn't fault him for wanting to give up after everything I'd seen.

We were wearing the disguises Tigris had made for us, and we were ready to leave the stylist's lair.

After thanking our eccentric ally for all her help, I turned around to face Peeta. I held my hand out to him, he returned the gesture, and I searched his eyes. All I found was sadness and acceptance. I knew the odds didn't favor us, I had told him as much. But there was something, deep inside of me, that hoped the baker's son would manage to turn his odds around.

I stood silently by as Katniss approached Peeta. I couldn't help the lump that settled on my throat as I watched the exchange between them.

Katniss wrapped her arms tightly around Peeta's frame. He hesitated for an instant but returned her embrace. He placed his arms carefully around her slight body, trying his best not to crush her.

It looked like the star-crossed lovers had reached the end of the line. The anxiety I saw reflected in Katniss' eyes told me she wouldn't have parted with him if she'd had a choice. I couldn't really blame her, not after what had happened the last time they'd been forced to split.

For all I knew, I was witnessing their last goodbye. The thought sat uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach, and I looked away trying to afford them some semblance of privacy.

XXXXX

**AN:** I want to thank my incredible D7 partners FanficAllergy, RoseFyre and passionately_curious for all their help and support and lovesbiggerthanpride for helping me sort out my ideas on this chapter.

I love kudos and comments as much as I love Peeta's shy smile. You always make my day when you share them with me. Thanks!

You can also find me on tumblr. I'm javistg over there, come and say hi!


	8. A New Panem

**CHAPTER 8. A New Panem**

When I look back on the last few months, all I see is a blur of anger, anguish and regret. What started out as a way to help the rebels in their efforts to free a country, ended up as the cold-blooded murder of hundreds of children.

I'm ashamed to say my hands aren't clean.

I know that I'll never be able to change or erase the things I've done. I can only hope all the destruction I left along my path won't be in vain.

We did manage to free Panem from its oppressors, after all. The Capitol is no longer what it once was. We're not slaves anymore, and I know I'll spend every waking moment of my life trying to make sure we stay this way. I have to. I owe it to them. All those who gave their lives so that we could have a better one.

I can't bring them back to life. The children, the soldiers, and the volunteers who died on the battlefields and on the streets of their towns are gone forever, as are those who died trying to help the wounded and the lost. All that is left for me to do is honor them with my commitment to the country which was bought with their blood.

XXXXX

We walked along the streets of the Capitol. Storefronts and buildings which had once been full of life stood by empty, what was left of their bright façades a sharp contrast from the despair and destruction which encircled us.

I looked around me. We were surrounded by hundreds of hungry, scared citizens. They walked in small, compact groups, huddled against the cold. They were all trying to reach the president's mansion.

I was surprised to discover that, under all their nervousness and anxiety, I could still find a glimmer of hope in their eyes. These people still believed that President Snow had answers for them. They still thought their lives would go back to what they used to be. I hoped with every fiber of my being that they were wrong.

As we moved forward, I thought about President Snow. He'd clearly been expecting an attack like this one for years. He must have been terrified if he had felt like he had to arm the Capitol like that, I mused.

I had to stifle a laugh as I realized that the weapons which had been installed to protect the Capitol and its inhabitants, were the same ones that were destroying their beloved city right in front of their eyes.

A smug voice inside my head pointed out that President Snow must have been desperate if he was willing to let his city burn down to the ground.

Suddenly, I heard a loud cracking sound. The earth moved under our feet as a seam opened up down the center of the block. The huge gap kept growing, eating everything in its path.

In a desperate attempt to stay out of the enormous hole which was about to devour us, I reached out for the first thing I could grab. It turned out to be a decorative iron grating which wrapped around the door to an apartment building. I held onto it as tightly as I could. It would have been easy enough to access the building if the door had been open. I kicked on it, trying to get someone's attention, but no one answered my call.

I heard Katniss's voice calling from my right. "Cover yourself!" she yelled.

I could see her lifting her gun, so I turned away.

She pointed her weapon towards the lock and started drilling it with gunfire.

After a few seconds, the door flew open swinging into the foyer of the apartment building. I threw myself through the open doorway and landed in a heap on the floor.

I had barely recovered from the fall when a large set of hands settled on my shoulders. I was surprised by how tight their grip was until I turned around. Peacekeepers. I knew those white-gloved hands would never let go of me.

I turned back around to face the street. I could still see Katniss through the open doorway. The shocked expression on her face told me she knew I had been caught.

I didn't want my captors to know I wasn't alone, so I mouthed my request. I hoped my hunting partner was close enough to read my lips and that she'd be willing to keep her promise.

"Shoot me," I said through silent lips.

I braced myself, expecting the impact of the bullet that would come flying through the door, piercing into my flesh and ending my life, the bullet that would keep me safe from my enemies.

No shot was fired. No bullet ever came.

As the peacekeepers hauled me back into the depths of the building, I managed to get one last message out. "Go!" I yelled.

The butt of the peacekeeper's rifle landed on my shoulder. A bolt of pain exploded on the spot and ran down my spine. My whole body went numb. I could barely register the rhythmic throbbing that radiated from the point of impact.

My mind flew back to the town square in District 12. The sound of Thread's whip flying through the air, the endless pain that seemed to multiply every time the lash hit my skin, the smell of snow covered in blood. I closed my eyes and hoped that they'd be done with me before they found out who I was. The last thing I felt was the coldness of the hard marble floor against my face.

I came to some time later, gagged and bound to a large armchair. My head hurt, and my left shoulder felt like it was on fire. My mouth was dry, the rancid taste of whatever they'd gagged me with made me nauseous. I wondered if I'd been unconscious for very long.

My eyes scanned the room. It was a study with a large elegant wooden desk. There were a couple of couches upholstered in soft worn leather. I could see an empty fireplace to my right and the biggest bookcase I had ever seen stood on the wall across from it; row upon row of colorfully bound volumes lined its shelves. I had seen enough of the Capitol to know we were inside an abandoned apartment.

My two captors must have felt quite confident about my binds because they had their backs turned to me. They were standing in front of the open window, looking out. The screams of people trying to escape the massive hole which had opened across the middle of the street could still be heard. One of the peacekeepers held a radio transmitter in his left hand.

Suddenly, everything changed.

The distinctive sound of bombs going off filled the air.

My mind turned to Katniss. Had she managed to reach the president's mansion? Could she be responsible for the explosions I was hearing? Was she creating a diversion by using her explosive arrows? No, that didn't make any sense. There were too many explosions, and they were too close together; there was no way a single person could do that. So, what then? Had the rebels reached the surrounding streets, or were the loyalists attacking the crowds?

My mind raced around madly. I could feel my heart jumping wildly inside my chest. I took a deep breath.

The cold winter air stuck in my throat. The smell of snow, powder and ashes tickled my nose, and I thought I was going to pass out again. I held my breath for an instant, my eyes stung with unshed tears. I focused my attention on the two peacekeepers standing in front of me, rooted to their spots by the window. An eerie wave of silence settled in.

Suddenly, a loud piercing ringtone filled the air. The peacekeeper turned a knob on his radio transmitter, and the noise died down.

"Attention all units," said the mechanical voice which came through the wire "there has been a level 1 security breach. The President's mansion is under attack. I repeat. The President's mansion is under attack. All available units must report back immediately. Search and rescue teams will be allowed into the area to assist the wounded. Caution is advised. End transmission."

The device had hardly gone quiet when a new avalanche of explosions filled the air.

The second round of bombs didn't last as long as the first one, but I could feel every blast resonating against the walls of the room. Every tremor of the building reminded me of my district, of my people, who had been consumed by flames while running for their lives.

Silence settled once more, and my captors started talking amongst themselves. They tried to keep their voices quiet and even as they spoke, but I knew what they were talking about. They were clearly conflicted as to how to proceed. An attack on the President's mansion could only mean one thing; the rebels had reached the City Circle and were pushing their way through.

I could see the fear in their faces. If the rebels took over the city, what would happen to them? Eventually, they seemed to reach a conclusion, they turned around to face me and said, "So, Solider Hawthorne, what do you say we let you go?"

I could feel a small smile tugging at my lips. They had reached the same conclusion I had. President Snow's fortress had been broken into; he had probably been captured. The Capitol was no more. We had done it. We were free.

XXXXX

On the days that followed, I learned about the bombs and how they had rained, concealed inside parachutes, like a gift from the sky.

I found out about the children, who had been huddled together as they tried to keep warm from the falling snow. Their cheeks had been red from the cold wind's kiss, and their eyes had been wide with fear. I learned about the hovercraft which had settled over their heads and saw how their young, innocent faces lit up when the parachutes were dropped. The promise of food or sweets making them smile and giggle in anticipation.

I saw shock and horror overcoming them once the explosions began.

The despair and agony of those who were injured by the first blast and their cries for help; the grim determination of the medics who rushed to their rescue. The thunderous blasts of the second round of explosives, and the balls of fire which swallowed everyone in their path. Everyone. These were the images that would haunt me wherever I went. These were the sounds that would keep me up at night. These were the people I hadn't been able to save. These were the people I had condemned to die.

I also learned about Prim, sweet, gentle Prim. With her soft smile and her cheerful laugh. The young girl who had watched over me after my whipping, who had washed my wounds and held my hand, was gone. She had been fearless, much like her sister, always thinking about other people's needs before her own. She'd been blessed with the power to heal, and she was on her way to becoming an amazing doctor.

Not anymore. She wouldn't become anything anymore.

XXXXX

As I walked along the long, spacious hallways of the president's mansion, I thought about the images I had just seen reflected on the TV screen. I could tell something was off, my eyes had seen one thing, but my mind stubbornly insisted on challenging it. I'd seen the group of children assembled outside of the President's Mansion, and the large Capitol seal imprinted on the hovercraft's side. I'd seen the parachutes which were commonly used in the areas fall from the sky. They were like shimmering butterflies that everyone in Panem associated with hope. The Capitol had always used them to deliver good news. Generations of tributes had eagerly awaited and welcomed their arrival.

I knew President Snow and his minions were capable of anything. Hadn't they spent the last 75 years sentencing children to die? But I couldn't understand why they'd use their last available hovercraft to attack what had worked as a protective shield instead of using it to run away from their attackers. It just didn't make sense, and my obstinate mind refused to accept what my eyes had seen.

There was also the fact that the idea of placing someone in danger, just to attract someone else into your trap, seemed awfully familiar. Yes, President Snow had used that tactic once before but, unlike his plan –which had been carefully calculated to break a single person– this had been developed with a larger target in mind.

As hard as I tried, I couldn't deny that the bombs which had killed all those defenseless children looked a lot like the ones Beetee and I had designed back in Thirteen's labs.

I walked around aimlessly for a while, trying to organize my thoughts. Eventually, my feet led me to the wing of the mansion which had been recently turned into a clinic.

The walls alongside the corridors had been stripped of all paintings and ornaments and had been scrubbed clean. The smell of strong disinfectant prickled my nose. I walked on silent hunter's feet and used the constant beeping and whirring of the machines inside the rooms to guide me.

I had almost reached the end of the hallway when I found the door to Peeta's room. It had been left ajar and, as I peaked through the slight opening, I was able to make out the silhouette of the glass tube which protected his sleeping form. I stepped into the room carefully, not wanting to disturb the victor's sleep.

As soon as I saw him, I knew how ridiculous that notion was, anyone looking could see that he'd been heavily sedated. How else could he stand being locked inside that tube?

I walked up to his bed and laid my hand on top of the glass cylinder which encased him. I could see the patchwork of skin grafts that covered his arms and chest and that showed the path the flames had left on his skin. He looked as if he'd held a ball of fire in his arms.

My eyes watered as the images I had just seen rushed back into my mind. The whole world had gone up in fIames. And Katniss had been in the middle of it all, a girl on fire exploding in Peeta's arms.

I had seen him wrapping his arms around her incandescent form, desperately trying to protect her, to keep her safe. There hadn't been a trace of hostility left in his actions. The hateful mutt who had tried to strangle and destroy her in District Thirteen was gone. The man who lay in front of me had pushed through confusion and pain and had risked his life for the girl who had kept him sane inside the dark sewers and twisted corners of the Capitol's streets.

I stood there for a long while, my hand flat against the cold, smooth glass, and my eyes trained on the beeping monitor which kept track of every beat of Peeta's heart. The sound was rhythmic and soothing, and my mind started drifting towards Katniss.

I knew she wasn't going to be in good shape once she woke up. Her mind was probably going to be trapped inside that dark place where guilt and regret reside. I could almost see her, dragging her feet along corridors, hiding in dark corners, locking herself away from the world, willing herself to die one shallow breath at a time.

She'd hardly survived losing Peeta, how was she going to survive this? How was she supposed to wrap her mind around the fact that the young girl she'd devoted her life to was gone? What was she going to do once she figured out that those plans I'd developed, plans she'd despised so much, were the ones which had been used to take her beautiful sister away from her?

I closed my eyes and let the tears that had been itching to escape run freely down my cheeks. The quiet sobs I had been trying to control got caught inside my chest, choking me. So I relented and let them take over.

My knees gave up, and I collapsed in a heap on the floor. I wrapped my arms around my waist, and I cried.

I cried for the father I lost when I was no more than a child.

I cried for those nights when my mother had gone to bed hungry as she tried to provide for her children.

I cried for the hours I had spent trapped underground, trying to push my way through walls of coal that stuck to my skin and poisoned my lungs.

I cried for the lost innocence of every child in Panem. For all those kids who'd been forced to stand by, as the Capitol gambled their lives away. And I cried for those who had been chosen, who had been carried into distant arenas where their dreams had been shattered, and their futures had been lost.

I cried for Katniss, the girl who had been my hunting partner and the woman who had made me want to settle and start a family of my own.

I cried for Peeta and for the fact that he was all alone, inside that sterile room, with no one to hold his hand; no one to tell him that everything was going to be ok.

I cried for Prim, the girl I had vowed to protect. The girl I had failed to save. The girl who had died because of my anger and my pride.

I had been so ready to punish the Capitol for their actions. So eager to show District Thirteen's leaders that their faith in me hadn't been misplaced, that I had let my thirst for vengeance blind me.

I had spent years complaining about President Snow and his tactics. At that moment, I knew that I'd been no better. I'd hid in my neat little lab, protected and removed from reality, as I'd gambled other people's lives away.

After a while, the sobs and the tears subsided, and I began breathing normally. I was so tired that I had no fight left in me. I could feel every muscle in my body going limp as the bitter taste of failure danced in my mouth.

XXXXX

Days turned into weeks, and before I knew it, a whole month had gone by.

That month was all it took for the rebel army to dismantle the entire infrastructure of President Snow's government. Cabinet members and government officials were removed from their positions and thrown in jail. Mass military trials were held.

Most of the accused were quickly sentenced to death. Their involvement in the Hunger Games and other acts of oppression had turned them into easy targets for the populace's hatred. No one pitied them or tried to defend them. A swift execution was all the mercy they were going to get. I'll admit that, in some cases, it seemed like they were being let off easy.

I sometimes wondered how 75 years of rule could be wiped out so quickly. Now that the monsters had been locked behind bars I realized how small they were. They had seemed invincible, but that was only because the districts had made them so. Without the energy, food, machinery and supplies that we produced they'd been lost.

The more I thought about it, the more I questioned Thirteen's decision to wait for so long. Why had they stood by as these tyrants took away our dignity and our strength when our freedom could have been so easily obtained? The answer to that was simple; it had been etched into my brain during my training lessons. We were weak; they'd said, we were outnumbered, we had been cut away from the rest of the country. All those things were true, of course, but so was the fact that their children had been exempted from the Hunger Games. I was willing to bet that the fear of losing their offspring to the Capitol would have made them react a lot sooner.

I also couldn't ignore the fact that once the fighting had begun they'd still held back, staying safely hidden behind Panem's borders.

While districts like Five and Eight were being razed to the ground, the organized army of Thirteen had crafted artificial propos and polished its nuclear weapons. I understood why they hadn't deployed their nuclear warheads; they were trying to preserve what little of Panem we still have. But I still resented the fact that a militarized state would just stand back while others, who were less prepared for battle, did their fighting for them. From what I could gather, I knew that they'd been following the uprisings right from the start. And President Coin had been a part of the rebel plot that began in the Capitol and ended with Katniss's release from the Quarter Quell arena. Why hadn't she done anything to prevent Twelve's destruction? What had my district done to deserve a death sentence?

I knew that the answers to those questions would only disappoint me, so I never asked them. I never forgot them, though. I carried them inside of me as I walked around the new government's headquarters and performed my duties as assistant to the new Head of Security. I kept them in the back of my mind as I talked to our freshly appointed leaders. And I thought about them every night, as Beetee and I tried to follow any and all trails which connected our lab's results to the upper echelons of Thirteen's leadership and their Control Center.

As the month drew to a close, President Snow was sentenced to death. Unlike his collaborators, he wouldn't be facing a firing squad. President Coin wanted to use his execution to send a message. Now that she was effectively in charge, she needed to introduce herself to the country which had bled to put her in office. She wanted everyone to see her, standing tall and proud, as her enemy was punished for his crimes.

Snow's death represented the end of an era. The days of misery and hunger were over. The old tyrant's death would bring peace, unity and stability among the districts. The promise of a better tomorrow hung in the air and Coin wanted everyone to know that she'd be the one who would be turning it into a reality.

The new President knew that, as much as she wanted to, she couldn't be the one to pull the trigger. After all, she wanted to be recognized as a leader, not an executioner. So, as much as it pained her, she was going to have to rely on someone else to get the job done. It didn't take long for her advisors to suggest Katniss, who was still in the recovery clinic, roaming the hallways like a silent ghost.

I worried that she might not be up to the task. I knew she hadn't spoken in weeks and that she hardly ate. How was she going to handle something like this? But I knew that the advisors were right.

Whether she'd meant to or not, the Mockingjay belonged to the people. She was one of them. She'd started a revolution by shooting her arrow into the arena's force field; she could finish it by shooting another directly into her enemy's chest. Besides, hadn't Katniss herself asked for the opportunity to kill Snow when she'd agreed to become the Mockingjay? Hadn't she dragged us into battle in her obsession to see him destroyed? She'd been willing to risk everything, and she'd lost plenty, in her effort to accomplish that one thing.

I hoped that this commission would help break her out of her haze, that it might give her a purpose and make her feel useful and relevant again.

XXXXX

I walked away from Katniss's room, trying to keep my strides long and firm, my step was determined. I could feel the tears I hadn't wanted her to see itching to escape my eyes. I didn't know what had been more unsettling. The way she'd looked at me, with those stormy eyes of hers filled with sorrow and pain, or the fact that she'd looked away almost immediately. As if the mere sight of me hurt her more than the tongues of fire which had danced on her skin.

I had gone by to give her an arrow; I hadn't meant for it to turn into a parting gift. But, as I stood behind my hunting partner's back, and found her reflection in the mirror in front of us, I knew there was nothing I could say or do that would make her pain go away. I knew that she'd never be able to forgive me. I understood. In all the years that we'd been friends, she had only ever asked one thing of me: that I help her keep her family safe. She had trusted me by placing her most precious possession in my care, and I had destroyed it.

Even if dropping those bombs hadn't been my decision. Even if the actual bombing had been completely out of my control, I had ben responsible for creating the strategy which had been used, and I'd had no problem defending it.

The tightness in my chest told me there was nothing left to say. So, with a soft brush of her cheek, I said goodbye to the girl who had been my best friend and my truest ally. The girl I had so absolutely let down.

XXXXX

President Coin was dead.

Katniss shot her, right through the heart.

I was standing on the balcony, President Coin herself had invited me to join her there. She said she wanted to have a representative from each district by her side and, since the Mockingjay was going to be on center stage, I was chosen to stand in for Twelve.

I could hear people yelling all around me as President Coin's advisors rushed towards the ground floor and tried to get a hold of the president's limp body. They seemed surprised when they found the arrow, perfectly lodged in the president's chest. I wasn't. Katniss Everdeen never missed a shot.

The sound of Peeta's voice caught my attention. He was by the platform, screaming Katniss' name as a group of guards tried their best to remove him from the premises.

How did he manage to get so close to the Mockingjay, I wondered? As far as I knew all the victors had been assembled on the opposite side of the square.

I shifted my gaze and searched the mass of people who were moving around the stage until I found Katniss. She was still on her platform; four guards were trying to hold her down as she squirmed furiously, kicking and screaming in a desperate attempt to break free from them. They were much bigger than her, but they were still having trouble keeping her under control.

Suddenly, our eyes locked and I saw her lips form my name. My heart stopped.

I knew what she wanted. I recognized the desperate look in her eyes. She was pleading with me, asking me to remember my promise, to keep my word. But I just stood there, frozen in place, unable to move, watching her.

I saw the exact moment when she realized I wasn't going to move a muscle. Her eyes closed in defeat, her thrashing subsided and her body went limp. I had let her down once more.

XXXXX

The next few days passed in a flurry of endless cabinet meetings and late night discussions which blended into one another.

Newly appointed officials, who had always followed orders, found themselves completely lost in a sea of options and opportunities. Now that Thirteen's leader was gone they felt no need to stick to the plans she had outlined for the country. They were drunk on freedom; they wanted their voices to be heard and their opinions to be considered. They'd grown tired of following rigid guidelines which they now viewed as restrictive and stifling.

The country had fought against one oppressive tyrant and now, in one single blow, they'd done away with two. By the end of the week, a new proposal for a government was drafted, and the country braced itself for its first real election in 75 years.

My heart fluttered happily in my chest when I heard about Paylor's victory. I hadn't forgotten the tough, capable commander from District Eight. She was a good leader. She had fought on the front, and she commanded respect, but I also knew that she cared deeply about her people.

I could still see the devastated look in her eyes after the Capitol's hovercraft dropped their bombs on the makeshift hospital she'd set up to help the wounded. I would never forget the kindness she had shown the injured and the broken, or how her eyes had lit up with rage at the notion that anyone might want to hurt them even more.

Once the dust had settled, my new assignment came through. I had been selected to join Panem's new military headquarters in District Two, and I had been allowed to take my family along with me.

The thought of seeing my siblings and my mother again filled me with joy. I had missed them so much. I knew that they'd been safe in Thirteen, but I had never liked the idea of leaving them behind, trapped inside that underground maze. I wanted them to experience freedom and breathe fresh air. I wanted to teach them how to swim. How to hunt, how to laugh, how to stop worrying about their big brother, and how to get used to the fact that we were all going to be ok.

But I wasn't allowed to leave right away. Given my active participation during the war I had to undergo mandatory therapy until I was cleared to go back to work. According to my head doctor, that probably wouldn't take more than a few weeks.

Even with all my therapy sessions, I still had a lot of free time. I needed something to keep me busy, so I spent my days trying to find out as much as possible about Katniss' trial. It wasn't always easy, some of the sessions were held behind closed doors, and I was only granted access to a few of them.

I worried about her. I knew she was detained in the old Tribute Center and that she wasn't allowed any visitors. I wondered if she was ok if she was eating if she was sleeping. Was she talking? Were the walls of her room closing in on her? Was her confinement helping her sort out her feelings? Was she letting those dark clouds of sadness consume her? Did she miss me? Did she hate me? Would she ever want to see me again? Did she know how sorry I was? These and a thousand more questions invaded my thoughts every night as I lay in bed and tried to chase my nightmares away. Most nights, I couldn't even remember my dreams.

I spent the long hours which passed between my sessions with the head doctor walking around town. I had never been to the Capitol before, never got to experience it in all of its glory, but I could tell that some of its old splendor had survived the rebel invasion. Now that the cleaning efforts had begun in earnest, you could see the old streets coming back to life. The long, stately avenues lined with colorful mansions surrounded by gardens, the commercial streets filled with brightly lit windows that advertised goods which had been brought in from every single district.

The city was quickly recovering from its losses; I hoped that the rest of the country could do so as well.

Most of the people I knew in the Capitol were either too tired or too busy to worry about me, and there were times when I feared that the boredom and loneliness I felt would crush me. It was on those occasions, when the longing for a friendly face, or the need for companionship, threatened to overwhelm me, that I visited Peeta.

We would sit in the common room of Dr. Aurelius' clinic, with a steaming mug of hot tea firmly clutched in our hands, and we would talk. Mostly we'd talk about Twelve, about the Meadow and the coal-coated houses in the Seam. We'd share stories about the old school, with its dusty playground and the small run down houses that surrounded it.

I'd tell him about the woods, with its tall trees and clear running streams.

He'd tell me about the bakery. About how he'd learned to knead dough and how he'd managed to survive his brothers' practical jokes and his mother's angry ladle.

We talked about the things we had known, the things we had shared, and the things that were gone. We talked about Katniss. The girl who had made us laugh, dream and cry. The girl we couldn't reach.

"You should be allowed to be with her," he said one day, "she was calling out your name as the guards dragged her away. You could tell them that, you know? Maybe then they'll let you see her."

I shook my head disbelievingly, a sad smile settled on my lips. "Yes. She was calling out my name. But, why do you think that was Peeta?"

"I don't know! Because she wanted you by her side, I guess."

"No. C'mon, you know better than that," I paused for a moment, leaned forward and placed my elbows on my knees. I made sure his eyes were locked with mine before I started speaking again. "She was asking me to do something for her. Something I couldn't do."

I saw his eyes widen as he figured out what I meant. The soft, hopeful glimmer I saw in them confirmed all my suspicions.

"She was asking you to..." the vulnerability I heard in his voice as he spoke pulled at my heartstrings, "she wanted you to fulfill your promise. She was asking you to shoot her. She was asking you to shoot her," he repeated as a lonely tear ran down his cheek.

I nodded and looked away.

XXXXX

"Very well Peeta," Dr. Aurelius says, "what words would you use to describe Gale?"

We've played this game before, many times in fact. Once Dr. Aurelius found out about our informal chats he took it upon himself to help us "heal our common wounds," so he scheduled some joint sessions for Peeta and me.

He's always encouraging us to talk about the things that are "real" in our life, like the things we can touch, the things we can see or the things we feel. He says it helps us understand who we are, where we've been and where we're going. He also thinks it helps Peeta's mind by clearing some of the fog the hijacking left behind.

I'll admit it made me a bit uncomfortable at first. Even though Peeta and I share a lot of what the Dr. calls "baggage," we view things very differently. But, once I got used to it, I began to enjoy it. Having things spelled out clearly is good. There is no room left for confusion, doubt, anxiety or distrust.

Peeta looks straight into my eyes, takes a deep breath and starts talking, "Hunter. Rival. Rebel. Soldier. Ally," I can see amusement reflected on his face, a playful smile settles on his lips as he finishes, "Friend."

"Good! Now I'll give you boys a few minutes so you can say goodbye," as the doctor stands up, he turns to face me, "please come by my office when you're done here. I need to give you the official certificate for your release."

"Sure," I say, "I won't take long."

He turns to Peeta, "I'll see you tomorrow then, have a good night."

Dr. Aurelius leaves the room, and we sit there in companionable silence for a couple of minutes.

As usual, Peeta is the first to break the silence, "So, you've been released."

"Yep, I'm leaving for District Two tomorrow morning. I still have to do follow-up sessions with one of the head doctors there. But, apparently, I'm ready to get back to work."

He nods, "and your family? Will they be joining you soon?"

The mention of my family brings a smile to my lips. "Yeah, as soon as I settle into my living quarters I'll send for them."

"Good. I bet they can't wait to see you. Give them my love?"

"Will do."

We stand up, and he holds out his hand.

"Gale," he says.

"Peeta."

We´re both smiling as we shake hands. Once we let go, I turn around and leave the room. I close the door behind me before I do something stupid like tell him how honored I am that he considers me his friend.

XXXXX

I walk into doctor Aurelius' office, and I find his assistant waiting for me. She smiles shyly as she hands me a large envelope.

"Your release documents, Soldier Hawthorne, you need to give these to your commanding officer once you arrive in District Two."

"Thank you, Myrna. Take care."

"Yeah, you too."

I watch as she turns around and heads towards a large filing cabinet, Apparently, I've been dismissed. I weigh the package in my hand. How can something so small carry so much weight?

I suddenly realize that this is it. I'm finally free to go; finally free to begin my life.

I go out into the hallway and find an open elevator waiting for me, as I go inside I notice that a radio newscast is streaming through its speakers. I can hear an authoritative sounding voice discussing the Mockingjay's trial. I chuckle when I think of how little the broadcaster knows and how much he's making up to keep the audience interested.

The truth is that Katniss still hasn't been released, but my sources assure me that she won't be detained much longer. Apparently, they've come up with a plan to send her to Twelve and keep her there.

As always, the thought of going back to Twelve sends a shiver down my spine. I don't know how Katniss will manage once she gets there.

I've heard talk of reconstruction. I know there are plans to create a new industry for the area, and that some are itching to get back –our youngest male victor for one– but, at present, Twelve is no more than a cemetery, an open field overrun with corpses, death, and despair. It's hardly the place for a woman who's been living under a dark cloud. I can only hope that going back to her old home, and finding refuge in those woods she loves so much, might help her heal. I know she won't forget the sorrow or the pain, but she might still have a chance, if she ever manages to start walking towards the future, towards hope, towards life.

As I head over to my room, I wonder what my future holds. Sure, I have already been assigned a job most young men in Panem would envy. But, what does that mean for me? Will I be able to manage it? What's it going to be like, being in Two? Do people there know who I am? Do they remember me? Do they fear me, or do they hate me?

My head's spinning with all these questions I can't answer. I close my eyes and remember the doctor's words, "you can't control everything, Gale. As a matter of fact, there's not much you can control. So don't drive yourself crazy with questions that only other people can answer. And, if you feel like you really need to know, ask. You might not like the answers they give you, but at least you'll know exactly what other people think. And don't worry about pleasing everyone, we all have different points of view, and we're all entitled to our opinions. Just respect what other people say and you'll be ok."

I open the door into my room, hoping that the doctor is right.

I spend a few minutes collecting my stuff. I don't have much, just the clothes on my back and a couple extra uniforms, washed and pressed. Their clean scent reminds me of my mom, and I smile. I can't wait to see her!

I keep trying to guess what my siblings look like now. It's only been a few months since I last saw them, but children change quickly, and Thirteen's steady diet has probably made them stronger. Specially Posy, she was so tiny and fragile when we left home, but her cheeks were already filling up the last time I saw her.

My heart skips a beat when I think about her and how she'll never know what signing up for tesserae feels like. I couldn't stop Rory from finding out, but at least Vick and Posy will grow worrying about other things, things that don't put their lives in danger.

I'm back on the empty corridors once more, headed towards the exit. Once I reach it, I stop for a second. I can feel my heart beating madly inside my chest and, even though I've been walking at a reasonable pace, I'm almost gasping for air. I'm nervous. I'm anxious. I'm excited!

I chuckle lightly to myself before pulling the door open. I walk out the door and step out onto the street. The light outside blinds me, and I close my eyes for a moment.

The pale winter sun kisses my cheeks and brings a smile to my lips. I can feel the frosty air filling my lungs. I take a deep breath, wanting to keep the fresh morning scent locked inside of me.

At this moment, I feel full of hope and promise and possibility. At this moment, I feel like I've been given a second chance to right the wrongs, to make amends, to build something good. At this moment, I know that this is only the beginning.

**AN **

And... it's a wrap!

This is my first finished fic, and I still can't believe that people are actually reading it, let alone liking it! So I want to thank all of you who have read, reviewed or "favorited" this story. I truly appreciate all your kind words and support.

Thank you for taking a chance on a story written from Gale's POV. I know he's not everyone's cup of tea, but that's exactly why I wanted to write this. I guess I wanted to see if I could find some softness behind the hard shell.

I also want to give special thanks to my lovely district partners who held my hand and listened as I ranted incessantly about Gale Hawthorne and his one track mind. FanficAllergy, RoseFyre and passionately_curious. You guys are the best!

And last but not least, my great ally AlwaysEverlark, who made this beautiful banner for me.

I love comments as much as I love Peeta's shy smile. You always make my day when you share them with me. Thanks!

You can also find me on tumblr. I'm javistg over there, come and say hi!

And now, moving on to... more Everlark stuff!


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